


Stuck in Gravity

by 64907



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Alien Character(s), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Space, Barebacking, Courtship, Cultural Differences, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, Feeding Kink, M/M, Mouth Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 15:46:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 37,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28958913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/64907/pseuds/64907
Summary: Deployed in a deep space research facility, spectral analyst Sakurai Sho has spent the last two years stuck in a mundane, predictable routine. Until a mysterious pod brings him an unexpected visitor.
Relationships: Matsumoto Jun/Sakurai Sho
Comments: 30
Kudos: 84





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So one time [rochi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rochi/) and I were looking at [these space goob caps](https://twitter.com/coolncute26/status/1349921494026104832?s=20) and rochi hit me up with "cbtm jun crashing against that guy's spaceship :)" and we took off from there. I owe half of this to rochi, and we lovingly refer to this as "the alienfucker AU."
> 
> Anyway. Happy birthday to my favorite goober! Here's me sending my fave and the beef who dreams of space to...outer space. Please imagine [this blue jumpsuit](https://twitter.com/_Srtoshi/status/1349916579945799681?s=20) for the goob's uniform, or [the old space SJ Non-no](https://ikaarashi.livejournal.com/34557.html) works too.

**2151.0125**  
  
In his two years aboard this solitary research station, Sakurai Sho has developed a particular routine. After he wakes up to the station’s AI’s prompts, he checks the logs for any anomalous frequencies in the area. There’s always nothing, but he gets paid by still giving the logs a look so that’s what he does despite knowing what to expect.  
  
Today is the same. The almost melodious voice of the station’s AI wakes him with a sweet greeting of “Good morning, Sakurai-sensei,” and provides him with the stardate. “It’s 2151.0125.”  
  
Sho blinks twice before sitting up.  
  
Mornings are relative when you’re in outer space; the greeting is said out of formality and is following the day cycle according to the station’s chronometer set to Earth. In reality, it’s just the same stretch of darkness out there with no sun to signal dawn.  
  
The AI beeps to life again, his room lighting up. “Happy thirty-ninth birthday, Sakurai-sensei. The replicator can issue a standard cupcake for your celebratory needs. The ISS has extended their greetings to you and you can find the mail log in your inbox.”  
  
Sho nods. These are things he knows.  
  
“Thank you, Nino.”  
  
Nino, or Neoprogressive and Interactive Nanobot Operator, was originally named after its developer on Earth. The acronym was simply a nice, technical touch. All research facilities at the edges of known space are equipped with one. Nino is reliable but snarky, knowledgeable but occasionally acerbic.  
  
Sho finds that having Nino onboard is the closest thing to having anyone, and thus cherishes his presence. It helps with the solitude and the silence.  
  
“Anything unusual out there, Nino?”  
  
The AI beeps in response. “Research Laboratory 874-C is fully operational, and the completed scan of Sector 874-C in the last eight hours yielded zero anomalies. Solar flares were encountered at 0400, but no damages were incurred as the shields remain operable at eighty-six percent capacity. Shall I begin running diagnostics?”  
  
Sho runs his hand over his face to wake himself up and nods. “Please. And thank you, Nino.”  
  
“The logs from the past eight hours may be reviewed at your leisure,” Nino reminds him, and Sho waves him off. “May I suggest looking over the previous logs for a new research inspiration? There must be something that will strike Sensei’s fancy.”  
  
“I’ll consider that,” Sho says. “Thank you, Nino.”  
  
The AI beeps and all is silent.  
  
Sho proceeds with his daily routine: showering quickly in the sonics and preparing himself coffee from the replicator before settling in the bridge to review the logs.  
  
As per Sho’s job description as a spectral analyst, any strange frequencies ought to be investigated and reported. Despite the years, humans are still yet to make contact with other beings, and the ISS remains vigilant by setting up laboratories at the edges of known space. Sho is assigned to Sector 874-C, where the latest frequency anomaly detected was around five years ago. The scientist before him managed to piece together the fragments of the transmission but it hardly made sense, at least not in the last five years the ISS has spent in trying to decipher it.  
  
As the sole analyst assigned to Sector 874-C, decoding the rest is Sho’s job.  
  
In Sho’s opinion, they need the entire transmission for the 874-C Frequency to make sense. But all the eyes of scientists are far from Sho’s sector now, not when on the other side of the Milky Way, another scientist like him detected a frequency in a different form than the 874-C specimen. It hyped up the entire scientific community and formulated theories that aliens do exist, and that there are different kinds of them out there.  
  
In truth, two years ago, Sho still had the passion and motivation to use his knowledge to help people understand and eventually pave the way to ISS’ ambitions of making First Contact. But here he is now, two years later, waking up to the same view of charted space, nearly 75 parsecs away from home with nothing but a broken transmission he’s on a deadlock with. His progress has long turned stagnant, hence Nino’s suggestions for other research avenues.  
  
In his lonesome, he inevitably starts thinking of home.  
  
He’s not homesick. Not really. His family resides in the Martian colony, and communication has advanced to the point that they can use holograms in real-time, so he can see them and speak with them like they’re here with him. He expects to receive one from them in a while considering the occasion.  
  
He’s not homesick, but it does get lonely when all you have for company is a clever AI and a bunch of nanny and cleaning droids to keep the station working at full capacity.  
  
And so he spends his thirty-ninth birthday in the same way, reviewing logs and messages. He replicates a cupcake for himself and asks Nino for a birthday candle, which is then provided by one of the nanny droids.  
  
And while waiting for his family’s holo invite, he sings himself a happy birthday while he looks out towards the stars.  
  
\--  
  
**2151.0207**  
  
Sho has a pet project he started last Christmas, and it stemmed from wanting to eat better replicator food during the holidays despite Nino’s insistence that “living healthy is what’s good for you, Sensei.”  
  
Personally, Sho gives zero fucks at what he calls baby calories—calories that would hardly matter when you put on some hours at the station’s gym. Cheat days exist for a reason, and if Nino can’t be bothered to know about them, then that’s no longer Sho’s concern.  
  
So his pet project of two months is improving the replicator itself, making adjustments to its programming so it can provide a variety of food instead of the standard-issue, ISS approved recipes that Sho has long grown tired of. They’re bland and unimaginative. It’s like food in the hospitals back on Earth.  
  
He’s not a cook. Not on Earth, not in the Martian colony, and certainly not here. That particular talent in the Sakurai gene pool didn’t pass on to him, and so despite the monthly ration of ingredients and spices courtesy of the ISS, most of what he’s done with them was storing them in the fridge or in the storage room.  
  
A medical droid beeps beside him and does a scan, and it’s only then that Sho remembers he’s due for a physical. He lets the droid record its findings, giving it an expectant look when it beeps to signal that it’s done.  
  
“Your heart rate is slower than your average,” the droid reports. “But nothing unusual. No signs of dehydration or malnutrition. There is a 0.4 percent decrease in your melatonin levels compared to the previous month. Would you like a sleep aid?”  
  
Sho blinks. “No, I’m good.”  
  
The droid beeps in acknowledgement. “Understood. Do you have any subjective complaints as of late?”  
  
“Nothing I can’t manage,” Sho says after a brief moment of contemplation. “Thank you.”  
  
“Sakurai-sensei can find me in the infirmary should he require anything,” the droid assures him before moving in reverse and heading out the hallway, leaving Sho to his work.  
  
Sho focuses on the screen before him, at the lines of programming he’s trying to figure out. This isn’t really his forte, considering that he’s a spectral analyst and his expertise doesn’t involve engineering and innovation. But with little else to do, he tries to learn what he can through the free courses available on the system, courtesy of Nino.  
  
So he’s not that terrible at it, but he’s also not stellar enough to actually make successful modifications to the replicator. But he’s trying. If there’s anything Sho dislikes, it’s giving up before trying so he gives it his best shot. Or so he hopes.  
  
“Sakurai-sensei,” Nino prompts after a beep that Sho hardly registers. “Sector 322-H has reported an asteroid heading for the Martian colony. Would you like some real-time updates?”  
  
“How big?” Sho asks without looking up from his console. Mars is practically sitting beside an asteroid belt. It’s nothing unusual unless it’s bigger than average and is heading directly for the planet.  
  
“Initial projection is at five point twenty-six kilometers,” Nino reports dutifully.  
  
“Course?”  
  
“If unchanged, it will directly enter the asteroid belt. Initial projections state that there is a ninety-four point eight percent chance of it losing its momentum when it collides with another asteroid in the belt,” Nino concludes.  
  
“Got it,” Sho says, letting out a sigh of relief. At least he knows his family remains safe in the colony. “Keep me posted for any changes.”  
  
“Noted, Sensei,” Nino affirms, and it beeps before going silent once more.  
  
Sho turns back to his lines of code and decides to scrap a particular segment he inputted a few days ago. He’s read about newer models of replicators from ISS; maybe he can request for an upgrade in the next performance evaluation, provided everything remains as it is and the eval itself goes smoothly.  
  
The ISS implements an annual performance review via a real-time holo, in which the interviewer asks Sho questions about his research, the laboratory, his daily routine, and any strange phenomena he might have seen in this sector of space he’s stationed in. He’s done it twice to know that it’s just a formality most of the time; all eyes are on the sectors which reported activity in the past three years.  
  
He’s not bitter. He likes being left alone; Nino’s free courses have taught him a couple of things. When he first arrived here, he didn’t know how to set up a recycler according to his needs. Now he has six functional recyclers, segregating and eliminating the station’s trash and wastes effectively, and he’s quite proud of them.  
  
He also recently discovered the joy of shredding, and while the ISS’ files are mostly on the database and accessible through Nino, the old files from the previous century are yet to be transcribed into the system itself, hence all the paper files. Sometimes he asks Nino to print certain documents so he can read them; Sho is a little of what the previous century referred to as “old school”. Reading printed materials gives him a serotonin boost he can’t quite describe, and shredding them afterward amplifies that.  
  
Which explains his clutter and the three-shift rotations of the cleaning droids in his study and at the bridge, as these are his working stations. He’s thankful the cleaning droids aren’t programmed with Nino’s snark or he’ll undoubtedly hear a lecture or two about keeping the workplace tidy.  
  
Sho is a visual and tactile learner; he has to be able to touch and feel something to satisfy his curiosity regarding it. Unless the object of his fascination is potentially life-threatening or harmful, he hardly settles for conclusions until he ascertains his findings are accurate.  
  
That’s how he justifies the current state of this section of the bridge—blueprints and diagrams of replicator parts and this particular model strewed about. When he finally sinks against the chair and decides to save his progress, Nino tuts to life with a tiny beep.  
  
“Shall I send the cleaning droids here, Sensei?”  
  
The way Nino says it makes Sho seem like a slob. He doesn’t know how Nino achieves it; it’s an AI, but it definitely has a distinct _personality_ , and if that personality was indeed inherited from its chief programmer, then what a talented software engineer that man must be. Nino is the most advanced AI to date.  
  
Sho thinks about the question before scanning his surroundings. He can tidy up the blueprints himself; he does want to look at them for a while. He refuses Nino’s offer and claims it’s fine.  
  
Another beep. “I have saved the program modifications to its designated folder. Would you like for me to scan your work for any potential errors?”  
  
Sho once looked up the face of Nino’s eponymous creator just so he’ll have a visual to attach to the disembodied voice, and at present he imagines the face to be judging him with an innocent smile on its rather youthful face.  
  
He sighs. “Please, Nino. But don’t make any corrections. I’ll look at them tomorrow.”  
  
“Understood, Sensei,” Nino affirms. “Shall I summon one of the nanny droids to bring you a refreshment?”  
  
That’s Nino’s way of telling him he looks like he can use a break, and Sho waves it off. “I’ll get it myself. Thank you. That will be all, Nino.”  
  
Nino beeps one last time before leaving Sho to his solitude, and Sho stares at the blueprints on the console before finally gathering them up.  
  
\--  
  
**2151.0228**  
  
One of the perks of working in a solitary research facility is that no one polices him when he decides to stop wearing the standard-issue booties and instead opts for the comfort of slippers. The ISS has no specific protocols on how their scientists should dress apart from the blue jumpsuit donning the institution’s logo and the employee’s name, so Sho exercises the little freedom he can have. He can only opt to wear something different from the uniform when he’s heading to the gym or going to bed.  
  
Another perk is that the ISS doesn’t have the capacity to monitor 24/7 all their scientists deployed in deep space, so while Nino has security camera feeds throughout the facility, the footage is merely for Sho’s review in case he finds something awry, and only then he’ll be prompted to file a report to ISS.  
  
Nino, while reliable, is still a computer, and his memory drives are often insufficient with the amount of data he collects and processes every single day. And it has become Sho’s job to personally peruse these files to determine which ones he can do without, and seeing as he’s alone in this part of space, he does away with the vigilant monitoring of the entire facility. He’s always been fairly easy to spook, and in his early days here, he often imagined seeing shadows and movement at the corners of certain cameras where there’s none except for the patrolling droids.  
  
However, he did configure Nino’s settings in such a way that the security feed is constantly monitoring him, just in case.  
  
And finally, what Sho considers to be the best benefit of working as a spectral analyst is that he does get left to his own devices, troubleshooting small problems within his capacity. It makes him feel trusted and in control, like this facility is truly his and a place for him to do his work uninterrupted. He’s had a couple of projects and research over the past two years, ranging from improving the station’s solar panels and shields, increasing the range of the station’s frequency sensors, and maintaining the durability of the shields. It’s not much, but it helps him sleep better during the night cycle, knowing that he’s pretty much secure despite being alone.  
  
The ISS isn’t rigid with its rules provided the employee hasn’t incurred any violation, and Sho has been a model employee so far that he hardly warrants a surprise visit from the higher-ups. Nino doesn’t report on him either, despite the AI’s tendencies to recite the institution’s protocols when Sho is being deliberately obtuse.  
  
Thinking about it, the only dirt Nino might have on him is his inability to use most of the ingredients from the monthly rations and his overreliance on replicator food. Which can’t be helped since cooking isn’t really for him.  
  
So in Sho’s two years of living in Sector 874-C, he’s never been visited by anyone. The last time he’s seen a human up close was prior to his deployment, and he barely registered that person’s face out of excitement at being assigned to his own research facility.  
  
He begins the day by reviewing the logs and readjusting the solar panels to keep the station running before heading off to the station’s gym for a run. When you’re on your own, it’s easy to slack off. But when you have an AI like Nino who talks about a healthy lifestyle and caloric intake and risk percentage of atherosclerosis for the average human male, you do get a little paranoid.  
  
So Sho keeps himself in shape. He runs, lifts weights, pushes himself to his limit until his own body screams at him to stop as his muscles flare up due to lactic acid accumulation from overexertion. He’s not strict, but he does follow a regimen to maintain his body, and judging from the satisfactory results of his monthly physical examinations, all of it is definitely paying off.  
  
He’s in the middle of crunches when Nino beeps.  
  
“Sakurai-sensei,” Nino drawls, and Sho listens, “the sensors at coordinates -45:27 are reporting a celestial body of approximately two point five meters, right within the range of the artificial gravity generated by this facility.”  
  
Sho grunts in effort, lying back on the practice mat to catch his breath. “Celestial body?”  
  
“I cannot confirm,” Nino says, which is unusual.  
  
“Asteroid?” Sho tries.  
  
“The sensors are reporting that it is cylindrical in shape and plated with a reinforced metallic alloy. I am running scans now, but my preliminary searches all yield the same results.”  
  
Sho frowns. “Which are?”  
  
“I do not know what it is.”  
  
Sho blinks. That’s comforting, he thinks ruefully, trying to squash the unmistakable bubble of anxiety rising in him. He’s never heard Nino admit that it doesn’t know anything. Nino knows everything.  
  
What’s going on?  
  
“Course?” he asks, knowing that the spike in his heartbeat is no longer solely attributable to the adrenaline from working out.  
  
“It’s drifting aimlessly but slowly heading towards the station, as our artificial gravity seems to have affected it,” Nino reports. The calmness in Nino’s tone is somewhat reassuring, especially when Sho’s desperately trying to forget all sci-fi horror films he’s seen as a child.  
  
“What do your scans say?” he asks, pushing himself up to stand and make his way to the bridge where he can review Nino’s findings for himself.  
  
“I believe, Sensei, that it is a pod,” Nino says after a series of beeps. “As to what it contains, I cannot tell for sure. It is still too far.”  
  
“Can we divert it?” he asks, now stalking the hallways to head where Nino’s main computer is. He has to see for himself.  
  
“Research Facility of Sector 874-C has no equipment of that sort to achieve the results you want, Sensei.” Nino almost sounds apologetic. By the time Sho makes it to the bridge, the zoomed-in image of the pod is plastered all over the screens. “My estimated time of arrival is three cycles from now.”  
  
Looking at it, calling it a pod makes sense. It is a space pod laden with alloy, thus protecting what’s inside from the pressure and the occasional debris. Even Sho’s rations are delivered in the same manner, jettisoned out of airlock by the ISS delivery vessel, but the pods containing his genetically engineered crops are smaller and made of an entirely different material.  
  
“Any orders, Sensei?” Nino prompts.  
  
“Initiate Quarantine Protocol 153 and inform the medical droid to standby,” Sho says. “And prepare the hangar as a possible quarantine area.”  
  
“Understood,” Nino affirms. Another beep. “Would you like me to file a report?”  
  
Sho thinks about it. He might be overreacting. They don’t even know what’s inside the pod; it’s still too far for Nino’s sensors to read. The station’s sensors aren’t equipped with advanced detection measures, and for all he knows, what’s in the pod might be rocks or lost belongings of someone heading for the Martian colony. It happens. He’s read reports.  
  
“Standby until we find out what’s inside,” he tells Nino. “When that object is close enough, run full scans. I want to know what’s inside it.”  
  
“Of course, Sensei,” Nino says. “I will keep you posted for any changes.”  
  
“Thank you, Nino,” he says, and Nino gives one last beep in acknowledgement. He sits in one of the chairs and starts reviewing the data: the preliminary stats the sensors have regarding what Sho is beginning to call a UFO in his head.  
  
A cylindrical, metallic pod containing who knows what. It’s enough to make Sho panic a little, but when it does enter the facility, with the hangar being prepped for quarantine, it’s going to get disinfected before Sho can approach it. And protocol requires that he wears a full protective suit when he does, so in the event that whatever’s inside may eat him just like in the films from the previous century, they’ll find that the ISS-issued equipment is tougher than the movies made them seem to be.  
  
At the back of his head, he thinks maybe he won’t die. But there’s still that nagging thought that unless he knows what’s inside, he can’t conclude for sure.  
  
A reasonable man would probably let the droids do the inspection with Nino supervising. But Sho is a scientist. If Nino deems it to be safe for him to approach, he knows curiosity will win out in him and he will have to see it for himself. What if it’s the beginning of a significant discovery? What if it’s his chance to report something of interest to the scientific community?  
  
He knows the risks, but he also knows his obligations as a scientist. And maybe two years of being alone in space has done something to his head that of the two, it’s the scientific curiosity in him that wins out instead of the survival instincts.  
  
He thinks he’s fucked either way and decides to stop overthinking and let the upcoming three cycles dictate what he should do.  
  
\--  
  
**2151.0301**  
  
Three cycles later, the pod is in the former hangar current quarantine area, and Sho is in a level four protective suit with Nino reminding him to release the safety of the stun gun equipped in the suit’s right arm once he steps outside.  
  
Beside him, the medical droid beeps.  
  
“Can you repeat your scans to me, Nino?” he asks despite knowing it’s the third time.  
  
Nino obliges. “I have detected the signs of a lifeform inside the pod, compatible with a human male of one point seventy-three meters in height, of a medium built. Vitals as of thirty minutes ago are stable, with respiratory cycles slower than normal in accordance with the pod’s simulated environment. I have not detected any contagion of any kind.”  
  
“And you are unable to open the pod despite overriding its system because?”  
  
Nino beeps. “The pod requires manual interference. I will provide you with the code to open it, Sensei. And may I remind you to step back once you input the code; the medical and security droids will handle the rest.”  
  
“Right,” Sho agrees. Easy for Nino to say; he’s not the one going out there to wake up a stranger adrift in deep space. What if this guy’s a victim of a human trafficking syndicate and being here makes Sho the target of some mafia that also operates in space? “If I die, initiate Security Protocol 705.”  
  
“I believe you won’t, Sensei,” Nino assures him, “but I will, of course.”  
  
Sho looks at the medical droid beside him, gesturing to the entrance of the hangar. “After you.”  
  
The droid does as it's told, wheeling itself forward to where the pod is. The disinfection procedures are still operational; the nurse droids are flashing environmental sanitation readings and assuring Sho that so far, everything is fine. A three-meter radius serves as the perimeter around the pod, the security droids on standby.  
  
He hears a tiny voice in his head that awfully sounds like Nino saying something like “this is how they died in those movies—heading straight to danger in pursuit of scientific growth.” He barrels through it.  
  
With each step he takes, the more he feels like an imbecile. When he finally makes it to the pod, touching the console on it reveals a number pad, and Nino then supplies him with the code as promised.  
  
“Eight-three-zero,” Nino says, “eight-three-zero.”  
  
A tiny beep acknowledges the last digit, and Sho steps back to let the droids shield him from the person inside. The pod roars to life, steam coming out of the now-present seams as it opens, and Sho resists the urge to sneak a peek.  
  
The nurse droids around them are whirring, running scans and Sho focuses on the sanitation levels being flashed before him. Confident that it has hardly changed, he turns back on the pod, now open and revealing a man asleep, but that’s not what throws Sho off.  
  
It’s what he’s wearing that does.  
  
For the lack of a better word for it, everything that the man is wearing is shiny. Glittering pieces of clothing dyed in heavy, dark red form his top, and from what Sho can see, even the slacks he has on has a bit of a luster too.  
  
What the fuck?  
  
If this person was a victim of human trafficking, why is he dressed like a pop star about to break into a catchy tune that has soaring through a stadium for its choreography?  
  
Sho, his fear momentarily forgotten, is very confused.  
  
More so when he sees the pair of boots the man has on, which are—naturally—also shiny. Everything about the man in the pod glittered that it’s almost painful to look at.  
  
The medical droid that’s been scanning the man suddenly beeps, wheeling back to have Sho in its line of sight.  
  
Sho looks at it expectantly. “What?”  
  
“Sensei,” the droid says, monotonous and unhurried, “vitals stable, respiratory cycle is becoming normal. I cannot detect any pathogen or contagion, and to my assessment, the subject is in perfect health. There is, however, a thing of concern.”  
  
Sho blinks. “Which is?”  
  
“The subject’s weight is heavier than the average human.”  
  
That doesn’t make sense. Sho is frowning at the droid now, hoping it’ll be clearer with its findings. “What’s your working diagnosis for now, then?”  
  
Behind the droid, Sho sees the man opening his eyes.  
  
The medical droid beeps. “The subject is not human.”  
  
\--  
  
**2151.0302**  
  
Pride be damned but Sho has locked himself in the infirmary and initiated Quarantine Protocol 153 on himself as well and started running diagnostics. He might be overreacting, the medical droid might be malfunctioning, but in case he’s not, then he definitely has an alien in his hangar that’s being guarded by the droids under Nino’s supervision via the security cameras.  
  
An alien. In his hangar.  
  
Sho is honestly surprised he hasn’t fainted yet. All he remembers was leaving the hangar as if his legs were on autopilot the moment the medical droid made its diagnosis; he’s not that stupid. He’s curious, yes, but he doesn’t want to die prematurely.  
  
He’s not even forty.  
  
He’s paranoid so he is watching the security feed from the hangar, and so far, his unwanted visitor from the recesses of outer space is content with perusing his surroundings.  
  
Lest his mind breaks itself apart, Sho will continue referring to the alien as a man. He does look like one, albeit his physiology seems to be a little different according to the medical droid’s findings. Said stranger only looks at the droids with interest and doesn’t seem to harbor any destructive tendencies. If anything, he’s content to let the droids scan him repeatedly and looks mildly interested at what he’s seeing.  
  
“Nino,” Sho calls out, and the AI beeps in acknowledgement. “Can he speak? And if he can, has he said anything?”  
  
“Scans of the subject’s anatomical features shows a constitution similar to humans, so yes, Sensei, it is to my belief that the subject can speak. He is yet to say anything. Would you like for me to prompt?”  
  
“Just the standard,” Sho says. “Ask him the basics. I will watch from here.”  
  
“Understood, Sensei.”  
  
Sho’s gaze flits to the security feed, and he sees the man who has long abandoned the pod casually roaming the hangar like there’s so much to look at. He doesn’t cross the quarantine threshold the droids have set up though, despite his attempts to peek at what’s beyond the filtering barriers.  
  
“Subject 005, please state your name for the record,” Nino says.  
  
The man looks up, presumably in the direction of Nino’s voice. Sho sees him licking his lips, eyes blinking in curiosity.  
  
After thirty seconds of silence, Nino prompts once more.  
  
“Subject 005, please state your name for the record.”  
  
“Can he hear?” Sho asks, and in the infirmary, Nino’s systems beep before responding.  
  
“Anatomical features are similar to humans. The medical droid has detected the presence of a functional tympanic membrane vibrating with each auditory stimulus, Sensei, so I believe the subject can indeed hear.”  
  
“Well, can he understand human standard?” Sho asks. The man on the screen is still looking up curiously, head tilted in question. “If he has no hearing difficulties, maybe he doesn’t—”  
  
“Name,” the man suddenly says, and Sho focuses back on him.  
  
“Yes,” Nino says in the hangar. “Can you understand human standard, Subject 005? Do you understand me?”  
  
The subject blinks, eyes now on the camera. For a moment, it does feel like he is looking directly at Sho. From here, nothing appears to be unusual. Disregarding the initial assessment of the medical droid, this subject can pass for a human in his thirties, someone with sharp, distinct facial features and a defined nose. His complexion is pale and his hair has streaks of gold scattered amidst the dark brown hue.  
  
“Is it the human custom to ask for a name while not giving theirs?” the subject asks, and Sho freezes. Does the man in the hangar think that Sho is the one speaking to him?  
  
Well, put aside the subtle confirmation that the subject is, in fact, not human, he can definitely understand human standard. And he speaks it too! The scientist in Sho is now fascinated, fear replaced now by curiosity.  
  
“Nino, tell him you’re an AI,” Sho says.  
  
Nino does. “I am the built-in system for this facility, Subject 005. I am known as Nino. Please state your name for the record, unless you prefer that I will address you as Subject 005 for the time being.”  
  
“Facility,” the subject repeats. “Where am I, Nino?” The fact that he isn’t giving Nino his name doesn’t escape Sho’s attention, and he decides to tread with caution. This man might be a wanted criminal. Maybe a mafia runaway, genetically enhanced or a product of some secret human experiment that went wrong. “This is no planet, is it?”  
  
The casual tone the subject now uses captivates Sho in a way he can’t describe; the man looks completely at ease despite being in quarantine. Sho darts a glance at the medical droid’s real-time readings and sees no signs of aggression. If anything, the subject is calm despite his situation.  
  
“This is Sector 874-C of known space, seventy-five parsecs from the Martian Colony and the International Space Station,” Nino says. “You are being held under quarantine as per Protocol 153.”  
  
“Quarantine,” the subject repeats. He gives himself a once-over. “I feel perfectly fine. And I think I know my own body better than any of these...machines around me are telling you.”  
  
Sho can detect hints of snobbishness at that comment; perhaps the alien race where this subject hails from is far more technologically advanced. In that case, then the droids around him are perhaps primitive innovations in his eyes.  
  
“As per protocol, the medical and nurse droids are to evaluate you for potential contagions and pathogens that may be lethal to humankind,” Nino explains.  
  
“And what did you find?” the subject asks.  
  
Before Nino can respond, Sho calls his attention. “Nino, let me speak to him.”  
  
Nino beeps. “Shall I keep a log of your conversation, Sensei?”  
  
“Yes,” Sho says. “Transcribe it into my personal database. Create a subfolder and triple encrypt it for now; I don’t want anyone catching wind of this yet. For all we know, this subject might have simply genetically altered himself to appear different, and that he is still human. Let’s keep our findings restricted to this station for now.”  
  
“As you wish, Sensei,” Nino says before letting out a series of beeps. “You may speak, Sensei, I have patched you through the communications line connected to the hangar. The subject will hear you.”  
  
Sho clears his throat. “We found nothing strange aside from the discrepancies on your weight, which is heavier than the average human.”  
  
The subject on screen tilts his head in wonder. Then slowly, he nods as if in understanding. “You are the human from earlier.”  
  
“Yes,” Sho says. No point denying it. “May I know to whom am I speaking?”  
  
The subject begins to pace, the droids whirring steadily at his heels. He doesn’t seem to mind them following around. He looks like a shiny mother goose on land with her baby ducklings. “I’ve never met a human before.”  
  
Sho’s eyes narrow at that. “So you confirm that you’re not human,” he says slowly, his gut sinking. Well, this is definitely something he didn’t expect—meeting an alien in his third year in Sector 874-C. Or maybe this guy is simply fucking with him.  
  
“Your protocols are designed to maintain the homeostasis of your…different physiology,” the subject says after a moment of consideration. “Which appears to be more delicate than what I originally thought.”  
  
“If you could clarify your meaning?” Sho asks.  
  
The subject ceases with his pacing and turns his face towards one of the security cameras. Then he does something that makes Sho’s stomach feel funny.  
  
He smiles for the first time.  
  
“You humans seem weaker than I expected,” the subject says, forthright and almost scalding, if only it was solely directed at Sho and not to his entire race.  
  
Still.  
  
“Nino,” Sho says, and Nino beeps, “did he just insult me?”  
  
“I believe so, Sensei,” Nino confirms.  
  
“Oh,” Sho says. Things are proceeding better than his imagination; he never had ‘receiving an alien insult’ on his bingo card for this year. “Right.”  
  
He thinks this will be interesting.  
  
\--  
  
**2151.0307**  
  
Quarantine Protocol 153 states that in the first three days of level four quarantine (which is inclusive of round-the-clock disinfection and sanitation of the quarantine area), if the subject fails to show any signs or symptoms of disease, they may be allowed to downgrade to level three, which is basically still in the designated quarantine area, albeit with the absence of physical barriers.  
  
Meaning, after his first three days aboard the facility, the subject is no longer trapped in a glass box.  
  
A week into quarantine with no signs or symptoms of disease will warrant another downgrade, and since they’re now on level two, Sho is allowed to speak with the subject face-to-face, separated by the quarantine doors designated in the hangar.  
  
In a week, Sho learns a couple of interesting things:

  1. The subject eats. He’s apparently been hungry for some time, but his constitution is built to withstand the acute effects of starvation better than a human, so he lasted longer than expected.
  2. The subject has basic human needs and has no complaints about the disinfection and sanitation procedures; he seems to be content to let the droids prod him and keep him clean.
  3. The subject has a dislike for replicator food, evident in the displeasure on his face when he tries it the first time. He claims he’d rather practice inedia than eat what Sho’s replicator produces.
  4. The subject is sensitive to decreases in temperature, complaining about the material of standard-issue ISS jumpsuit that Sho lends to him and demanding for his clothes to be returned to him. The shiny outfit is apparently equipped with insulators, or so he claims.
  5. And finally, the subject is called Jun.



“How is it that you can speak human standard?” is what Sho asks him the first time he ventures into the hangar in his protective suit. They’re separated by a glass door that only opens from Sho’s side, and Jun is eyeing him curiously in his bulky, bronze-painted gear.  
  
Without the additional inches offered by Sho’s boots, Sho thinks they’re almost of the same height.  
  
“Your kind has been sending transmissions into deep space in different tongues and languages for years,” Jun says after a moment. His stare is unwavering, and Sho tries not to bristle at the weight of it on his person. “It’s enough for us to piece together and understand.”  
  
“Us,” Sho echoes. “Where are you from?”  
  
Jun blinks. He opens his mouth, but then pauses. Sho is drawn to a particular mark under his bottom lip. He has a couple of those on his face alone, and Sho wonders if it’s a distinct trait of his race.  
  
Because he’s starting to think that Jun might not be some experimental human subject or a human trafficking victim who ran away—Sho is beginning to accept that the initial assessment of Jun being an alien might be accurate.  
  
“You’ve never met anyone out here before,” is what Jun says after a moment. He seems amused. “Do you humans truly believe you’re alone out here? In the vastness of space?”  
  
“No,” Sho says. Or at least he doesn’t; it’s too conceited of mankind to harbor such thoughts. There are multiple unexplained phenomena supporting the existence of extraterrestrials. Mankind just happened to not have encountered them. Yet. “But First Contact with any species is yet to happen.”  
  
“So we’re each other’s firsts,” Jun says simply.  
  
Sho bristles at that; he can’t help it. The wording is a little...questionable.  
  
He clears his throat. “You haven’t answered my question regarding where you’re from.”  
  
“Out there,” Jun says. “Way beyond what your probes have ventured into.”  
  
Sho nods in acceptance; if Jun decides to be vague about it for now on account of being held under quarantine, so be it. Sho is not in a hurry and they have time to get to know one another. Nothing remotely interesting has happened to him before; this is the first.  
  
“Nino has reported findings of a stealth mode in your pod,” Sho says, gesturing towards the dismantled pod behind Jun. The engineering droids have dealt with it four day cycles ago, creating blueprints of it. Nino’s scans have reported that stealth mode was activated prior to the pod being detected by Sector 874-C’s sensors, meaning Jun was hiding from something.  
  
Or running away from them.  
  
Jun inclines his head. “What are you asking me?”  
  
“Are you a wanted criminal from wherever you hail from?”  
  
Jun appears to consider his question. “I should say no.”  
  
Sho frowns, eyebrows lifting in combined confusion and doubt. “Should?”  
  
“Criminals are people who committed something against...laws, right?” Jun says after a moment. “I believe I am not, so I should say no. But then again, whose laws are we talking about here? Yours or mine?”  
  
At the question, Sho is at a loss. There’s no denying the logic behind Jun’s query, and Sho is simultaneously annoyed and impressed. Annoyed at Jun’s uncanny ability to find loopholes in the questions directed at him and impressed at Jun’s wit.  
  
Sho has always enjoyed the company of intelligent people. But intellectual people combined with foreign physiology despite looking like a very attractive human, that’s a first for him. He’s quite unsure how to proceed.  
  
Jun looks at him patiently, his stare free of judgment and almost kind.  
  
“There’s no human law in existence that prohibits entry into known space,” is what Sho decides to say after a moment of contemplation. “Presently, there are no existing borders set despite the ISS referring to certain parts of deep space as ‘known’. We currently don’t hold any claim over it. So no, I believe you haven’t broken any human law.”  
  
Jun hums. “I thought so.”  
  
“But if we talk about yours…” Sho pauses. “Will there be others like you? I would rather avoid any incidents with more of your kind dropping visits in this facility.”  
  
Jun appears to consider his words.  
  
“I think you’ve been honest with me, so I will do the same: my kind has met others. What you call ‘aliens’ aren’t limited to my kind—there are different species out there. And some of these species have made an agreement long ago,” he explains.  
  
Sho listens attentively, knowing Nino is keeping a record of it. He can review it later in case he feels like verifying the veracity of Jun’s statement.  
  
“The agreement was to keep you, humans, in the dark regarding our existence,” Jun says with a soft smile.  
  
Sho frowns. “What? Why?”  
  
“Your kind is not that advanced yet,” Jun tells him. “There are many things you do not yet know, and we thought we didn’t want to hinder your progress towards discovering things on your own. Your species is progressing at a slower rate than other species, but we do believe that in time, you'll get there.”  
  
“So you’re prohibited to make First Contact,” Sho concludes. “Unless we’re the ones who found you first.”  
  
Jun nods. “Exactly. You’re picking up things faster than I estimated.”  
  
Sho almost rolls his eyes, but he knows the effect is dampened by the reflective surface of his helmet. “Must you always compare yourself to the rest of humankind through me?”  
  
“I’ve always been curious about the species we weren’t allowed to meet,” Jun says.  
  
Sho’s eyes narrow at that. “So you’ve looked us up?” That’s surprising. He didn’t think an alien would want to know about what they might be referring to as an inferior race.  
  
“I have,” Jun affirms. “We look almost the same. Perhaps it is only our physiology itself that differs and provides me with more strength and endurance compared to your kind. But so far, almost everything is similar.”  
  
“You haven’t answered the question,” Sho reminds him.  
  
Jun stills, then he smiles. It’s an arresting sight; two years on his own has definitely had some lasting effects on Sho. Or so he likes to think; he might be more susceptible to Jun’s attractiveness because of his lack of company.  
  
“I’ve violated the agreement and made contact,” Jun says. “But you did find me first.”  
  
“Technically speaking, it was Nino who found you,” Sho says. “But sure.” But then Sho notices something. “Wait. Why were you drifting close to Sector 874-C in the first place?”  
  
Jun’s grin broadens. “Because I’ve been trying to make contact.”  
  
\--  
  
**2151.0308**  
  
In the past cycle, Sho has learned of the existence of what Jun calls as the Intergalactic Police Task Force, tasked with upholding the interplanetary law that no humans should discover the existence of other beings in space unless they find out on their own.  
  
Jun explains that this was the reason he had the pod in stealth mode. He had to abandon his spaceship when the Task Force caught wind of him attempting to enter the human territory.  
  
“What you’ve been calling ‘known space’,” Jun elaborates, “is considered your territory. Not that you’re close to trespassing against another species’; the planet closest to you is still far beyond your reach even with your current technological advancements.”  
  
“Why did you want to meet us?” Sho asks him. “My kind.”  
  
“I’ve been curious about the species who look like us,” Jun says patiently. “I merely wanted to observe at first. But the Task Force disabled my ship and forced me to evacuate, and I had to rely on the escape pod’s stealth mode to lose them. Fortunately, the police’s jurisdiction only extends as far as the border.”  
  
Sho digests the information and nods slowly. “Meaning no one knows you’re here.”  
  
“And even if they do, they can’t do anything about it,” Jun says. He sounds delighted about the whole thing, shifting his weight on his heels before flashing Sho a small smile. “They can only declare me as missing.”  
  
“Right,” Sho says, nodding. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”  
  
Jun darts a quick glance at the space above them. “Your...system.”  
  
“Nino,” Sho reminds him. “He’s the station’s AI.”  
  
“Nino, then,” Jun says, “I believe Nino has been running...certain scans on me the moment I first spoke. How do humans refer to that test, the one that measures the truth in my words.”  
  
“Polygraph,” Sho tells him. Jun smiles. “You’re right. Nino’s been conducting polygraphs on you, thanks to the sensors you allowed the droids to place on you.” He inclines his head. “My apologies. I never meant to hide it nor conduct it without your consent. It’s part of protocol. Still doesn’t make it any right, though.”  
  
For the first time since his arrival in Sector 874-C, Jun appears...conflicted. It’s different from the displeasure on his face at the blandness of replicator food. “You apologized.”  
  
Sho is confused. “Yes? What about it?”  
  
Jun blinks repeatedly, the long eyelashes fanning against his cheeks. “What does it mean?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“What is an apology?” Jun asks this time.  
  
“It’s the same as sorry,” Sho says.  
  
Jun’s gaze is unwavering. “What does that mean?”  
  
Sho stares back, at the obvious confusion marring Jun’s features. He...truly doesn’t know.  
  
“Apologies don’t exist in where you’re from,” Sho says slowly, finally understanding. “Do they?”  
  
Jun has his head inclined now. “I haven’t heard of them before. What are they?” He appears to recall Sho’s words earlier. “You also mentioned a word I didn’t recognize. Consent. What is it?”  
  
“It means securing your agreement to do something that involves you,” Sho says. “Usually you have to explicitly declare it or you will be asked to sign something, with the terms of the agreement laid out.”  
  
“I have to explicitly give it?” Jun asks him once more.  
  
“Or we take your non-verbal cues and go with that,” Sho says. “Sorry. We humans are curious beings and we often overstep our bounds. We only realize these things belatedly, and by then, the damage has been done. I know I’ve wronged you by performing tests without securing your consent, and for that, I’m truly sorry. No amount of explanation will fix that, but I will try to do better.”  
  
He blushes when he realizes he’s said too much; Jun’s been silent all this while.  
  
“I see,” Jun says finally. “I never encountered these terms before when I was learning your language.” He offers Sho a tiny smile. “Someday, you must teach me how apologies work. I think I can learn from you like how you’re learning from me.” He pauses, blinking in succession. “If I have your consent, of course? Does it work like that?”  
  
At that, Sho can’t help smiling. “It does. And you do. I guess we can benefit from each other this way; you wanted to meet a human, and I’ve never met anyone like you before.”  
  
“Very well,” Jun agrees. He places his palm against the glass, pale hand with its own print. The medical droid has long done scans, of course, and Jun’s prints didn’t correspond to any person in the ISS database.  
  
He’s truly not from Earth or from the colony.  
  
Sho looks at the hand in question.  
  
“In my culture, this is how we settle the terms of an agreement,” Jun tells him. “There has to be physical contact. A simple touch would do.”  
  
“I can’t open the doors,” Sho tells him, and this time, he truly sounds apologetic. “Level two doesn’t allow any physical contact to happen.”  
  
“Put your hand against the glass,” Jun says. At Sho’s gaze meeting his, he nods. “It’ll do for now.”  
  
Sho lifts his gloved hand, pressing it against the door and letting the shape of his own hand cover Jun’s. Separated by merely ten inches hardly means anything when they’re looking right at each other, and Sho tries not to blush.  
  
He fails. Jun’s gaze is piercing.  
  
“We are in agreement,” Jun tells him cheerfully, and Sho no longer holds himself back.  
  
He smiles in return.  
  
\--  
  
**2151.0315**  
  
After fourteen days, as per Quarantine Protocol 153, provided that Jun doesn’t show any signs or symptoms that indicate disease, he is finally allowed to step out of the hangar.  
  
Jun remains perfectly healthy under the vigilant monitoring of the medical droid, and with Nino telling Sho that “frankly speaking, Sensei, I believe he is healthier than you,” Sho agrees to let Jun out of the hangar.  
  
Provided, of course, that Jun acquiesces to wearing the standard-issue ISS uniform.  
  
He eyes it with distaste when Sho explains it to him. The environmental and sanitation protocols of the facility are still in full effect, with the sensors feeding real-time information to Nino, who keeps the station habitable and as sterile as necessary. Sho feels confident about ditching the level four protective suit now that they have more knowledge regarding Jun’s condition, and that they have proof that he doesn’t harbor any contagious diseases.  
  
“The material is too thin,” Jun complains when Sho tries to hand him the folded uniform. “I would like my clothes back.”  
  
“Your clothes were too eyecatching,” Sho tells him. “If you do not agree to wear the jumpsuit, I’m afraid I cannot let you out.”  
  
Jun is dressed in the infirmary-issued quarantine jumpsuit, one that he is required to leave in the hangar for disinfection purposes as soon as he steps out. He runs his hand over his chest for effect. “If I was hiding weapons in my clothes, surely you would have found them by now.”  
  
Sho sighs and places the uniform and the booties by the glass door. He gives Jun an unimpressed look. “I’m not worried about any weapons. You keep reminding me that I am weaker than you; I think you don’t need a weapon if you truly wish to harm me.”  
  
“Then why insist on this—” Jun gestures vaguely towards Sho’s direction, “—unsightly thing?”  
  
Sho’s mouth drops open in shock. That’s it? “You don’t want to wear it because it offends your aesthetic sense?” He is appalled.  
  
Jun scrunches his nose. “The colors are uneven.”  
  
“It’s blue,” Sho says flatly. “Listen, no one’s going to look at you while you’re here.”  
  
Jun shoots him a glance, a lazy smirk crossing his features and making Sho pause.  
  
“What?” he demands.  
  
“You are looking at me,” Jun says simply.  
  
Suddenly indignant, Sho withdraws like an offended bird. He fights the steady heat that threatens to climb up his cheeks. “Suit yourself,” he tells Jun, who is yet to stop smiling. Alien or not, he definitely thinks he’s above Sho, and Sho hates him for it. “See if you can get out of there without me.”  
  
He spins on his heel and marches away, not turning his head even when he hears Jun call his attention.  
  
\--  
  
**2151.0330**  
  
Jun, Sho discovers, is a fast learner.  
  
Within two weeks after his release from the hangar, he has memorized the layout of the station, Sho’s daily routine, and has grown accustomed to a minimum of three droids following him. He doesn’t complain when Sho asks him to help with a couple of errands, though he doesn’t hold back in highlighting how superior his race is.  
  
Sho lets him get away with it. The fact that Jun can lift an entire recycler on his own is a display of strength that Sho hasn’t seen before. On the average, it takes three able-bodied men to lift a recycler just to move it in a different position.  
  
Jun did it without so much as a grunt.  
  
With him around, the things that Sho couldn’t address before have been provided with solutions, albeit temporary. The recycler has been moved closer to where the cleaning droids are, after Sho’s multiple and unsuccessful attempts to do so in the past few months. This way, the droids no longer need to traverse the entirety of the station just to get to the recycler.  
  
His superior strength aside, Jun rarely has occasions to use it, considering the kind of work Sho does. If anything, Jun spends his days speaking to Nino and learning from the droids, with the nanny droid doing daily dictionary rundowns with him as per his own request.  
  
He still dislikes replicator food, but he eyes Sho with curiosity each time they share a meal together. Sho has taught him all the replicator combinations, and by the end of that particular cycle, Jun has discovered five hidden replicator features on his own.  
  
“Why do you use those?” Jun asks one time during a night cycle and they’re having dinner.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Those,” Jun says again, nodding to the metallic chopsticks in Sho’s hand. “What are they?”  
  
“Oh,” Sho says, finally realizing. He’s never seen Jun use them before, sticking to the utensils he claims that are similar to the ones they have back from where he came from. “They’re chopsticks.”  
  
“Aren’t they inconvenient?” Jun asks. “Just two sticks instead of…” he trails off, instead lifting the spoon he’s using to emphasize his point.  
  
“I’m fond of them,” Sho tells him with a smile. “I grew up using these, and my mother used them to explain to me how to exercise control. I was fairly young then, but I have already learned something I could carry with me for the rest of my life.” He lifts the chopsticks between them. “Besides, they remind me of home.”  
  
Jun is still staring at the chopsticks in Sho’s hand. “Earth?”  
  
“Both Earth and the Martian colony,” Sho says. “Don’t you have anything that reminds you of your home, wherever that is?”  
  
For a moment, Jun diverts his gaze elsewhere, seemingly lost in thought. Sho waits, but then Jun says nothing, and when he recovers, he flashes Sho a reassuring smile.  
  
“I think I understand,” he says slowly, carefully. He glances at the chopsticks once more. “You are quite adept at explaining things. Have you ever taught anyone before?”  
  
Sho shakes his head, lowering his hand between them. “I can’t be a teacher and a scientist at the same time.” He gestures to the replicated noodles. “Those would have congealed by now. Let’s eat.”  
  
Jun seems to understand Sho’s attempts at diverting conversations, which only proves the remarkable intelligence of his species. He’s good at reading cues and picking up hints, and so far, he hasn’t overstepped his boundaries. He still doesn’t know how apologies work, though.  
  
Two cycles after that dinner, he finds Jun in the storage room where he keeps the monthly rations, hunched over a jar of assorted beans.  
  
“I had to ask Nino where you are,” he says. Jun doesn’t turn around to acknowledge him. “What are you doing?”  
  
“Segregating,” Jun says seriously, and Sho frowns.  
  
“Segregating what?” he asks before rounding up Jun’s form, and his mouth hangs open at the sight. “You’ve been doing this for how long?”  
  
“Three hours according to Nino,” Jun says.  
  
In front of Jun is another jar, this time containing only a specific kind of bean, carefully segregated from its previous container. That’s not the most surprising thing to Sho.  
  
It’s the fact that Jun’s been sorting them for three hours, painstakingly transferring each green bean to the new jar and separating them from the red and orange ones using a pair of chopsticks.  
  
And he’s nearly done with it. In three hours, he has sorted almost the entirety of the jar, which is as big as a gallon.  
  
“Why do you have so many of these seeds?” Jun asks. He is still transferring the green ones, not looking up as he drops one after the other in the other jar.  
  
“They’re beans,” Sho says. He shakes his head. “Did Nino even tell you that these are supposed to go together?”  
  
“Yes,” Jun says. “It’s fine, I will put them back once I’m done.”  
  
Sho is very confused. “Then why separate one from the other?”  
  
Jun finally faces him, lifting the chopsticks between them, a green bean trapped between the metal. “I’m learning about control. I’m practicing.” His grip is unsurprisingly stable.  
  
Sho gives him an incredulous look. “How long have you been practicing?”  
  
“Perhaps a cycle,” Jun says.  
  
It hits Sho then; his gaze darting to the shelves. “You’ve gone through the entire stock.”  
  
“Yes,” Jun says. “You’ve kept a lot of things you can no longer use. Nino calls them ‘expired’ and has sent the cleaning droids to dispose of them after I was done with them. You don’t use most of these rations. Why?”  
  
“I would if I knew how to cook,” Sho explains. He waves his hand. “Nevermind that. If you wanted to practice on chopsticks, you didn’t have to go through the stock. You could’ve simply practiced during our meals.”  
  
“This is the fastest way for me to learn,” Jun says. “You only eat thrice each day. If I had done as you advised, I would have hardly progressed.”  
  
He has a point. But Sho didn’t think he was this earnest and dedicated to trying to become better at something. This is too overachieving even for Sho’s personal standards.  
  
He dunks his hand in the jar and picks up a bean, and without warning, tosses it towards Jun’s direction.  
  
Jun’s expression hardly shifts when he moves on reflex, catching the bean midair before it makes contact with his face.  
  
Using the chopsticks.  
  
Sho is simultaneously impressed and slightly horrified.  
  
“That’s enough practice,” he tells Jun before turning around. “Put those beans back the way they were.”


	2. Chapter 2

**2151.0403**  
  
Living with an alien for a little over a month has brought certain changes to Sho’s life:

  1. A nanny droid has been tasked with following Jun around to report his whereabouts to Nino who reports to Sho if necessary after what Sho refers to as “the bean incident.”
  2. Seeing as Jun requires less food and fewer hours of rest compared to Sho, he is an effective replacement should Sho need someone to watch the bridge for any upcoming solar flares that the station’s sensors may have caught.
  3. Jun has consented to be observed for as long as he remains in the station. Any data on Jun may also be accessed by Jun, as Sho feels bad about keeping things from him and studying him without his knowledge.



In return, Sho allows Jun to observe him too: his habits, his mannerisms, and any other quirks that are common to humans. He doesn’t think he’s the best representative for this cultural exchange they have going on, but Jun hardly has any choice considering the lack of other options.  
  
So they make do. Sho adjusts to living with another being aboard the station and sets his boundaries while allowing Jun to have his own, too.  
  
For instance, Jun cannot enter Sho’s private quarters unless asked. Jun sleeps in the infirmary, and Sho has respected his privacy and has never stepped foot in the infirmary since Jun began residing in it.  
  
If he needs anything, he asks Nino to summon the medical droid.  
  
He explains the concept of it to Jun over a hologram of the station’s blueprints.  
  
“I will teach you about space,” is how he opens up the topic.  
  
Which earns Jun’s reply of “I know more about space than you,” while gesturing to the inky blackness behind him, seen through the glass panels of the bridge.  
  
Sho rolls his eyes. “Personal space.”  
  
At that, Jun appears curious. “Is this different from Nino forbidding me access to your sleeping quarters?”  
  
“It’s more or less the same,” Sho explains. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I haven’t been to the infirmary since you started living in it.”  
  
“I have noticed,” Jun says. “Why? I don’t mind. This facility is yours.”  
  
“That’s the thing,” Sho says with a nod. “It does make me entitled to all areas of this facility, being its scientist. But it’s human courtesy to respect boundaries, in the same manner your Task Force is asking your kind to leave us alone.”  
  
Jun hums. “My usage of the infirmary makes it my personal space?”  
  
Sho has never had a student this smart, and he’s very thrilled. “Yes! Exactly! I respect your boundaries, so it’s courtesy that you should also respect mine.”  
  
“But if I invite you to the infirmary, will you still refuse to step inside it?” Jun asks.  
  
“It’s not a matter of refusal,” Sho says. “It’s about me knowing my limits. Of course, if you invite me, then I will accept.”  
  
He is surprised and nearly jumps out of his skin when Jun suddenly wraps a hand around his wrist. Before he can pull back, Jun is tugging him along the corridor.  
  
“Then I am inviting you,” Jun tells him, squeezing his wrist once. “We are in agreement. Let’s go.”  
  
Sho barely registers what’s going on until he’s inside the infirmary, the medical droid running scans.  
  
He gives Jun a look. “What are you up to?”  
  
Jun shrugs, then he points to a spot in Sho’s neck. “You slept in an uncomfortable position five cycles ago and you have a crick in your neck. You’ve been summoning this droid to provide you with a medicated patch for it.”  
  
Sho’s eyes narrow. “And who told you this?”  
  
“Nino,” Jun says.  
  
“Nino,” Sho echoes, and Nino beeps in acknowledgement.  
  
“What can I do for you, Sakurai-sensei?”  
  
“You told him about my stiff neck?” Sho asks.  
  
“I was concerned about Sensei’s wellbeing,” Nino says. “The medical droid has reported a higher percentage of muscle stiffening due to poor posture, and after I have considered the chances of Sensei listening to my advice, I have decided to enlist the subject’s help.”  
  
Sho turns to Jun, just as the medical droid completes its scan. “Of course you’re as much of a health junkie as Nino. Of course.”  
  
Jun appears to not understand, which isn’t Sho’s concern. If anything, he’s a little annoyed at Nino’s meddling.  
  
The medical droid wheels backward to retrieve another patch, dropping it to Sho’s waiting hand as Sho sighs.  
  
“Anything else?” he asks.  
  
“The medical droid reports that currently, there is a one point six percent increase in Sensei’s cortisol levels,” Nino says. “This is almost simultaneous with the spikes of norepinephrine levels, both of which are steadily increasing as I speak.”  
  
The droid beeps in affirmation. “Two point three now.”  
  
This time, it’s Jun who asks. “Which means?”  
  
“Sensei is annoyed,” Nino says evenly.  
  
Before Jun can open his mouth, Sho beats him to it.  
  
“It’s nice to see you and Nino are getting along,” he says, flashing Jun a deceptively saccharine smile before turning away. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I should be working.”  
  
He leaves the infirmary without looking back.  
  
\--  
  
**2151.0406**  
  
It’s petty. He knows that much. He knows Nino is tasked with his welfare as long as he’s aboard the facility. But he’s spent at least three day cycles trying to avoid Jun, which was fairly easy to accomplish since Jun’s presence is often announced by the beeping of the nanny droid at his heels.  
  
“Sensei,” Nino says when Sho has locked himself up in his study while making adjustments to the solar panels at the roof of the facility by enabling manual override. “The subject is looking for you.”  
  
“I’m busy,” he says, and Nino beeps once more.  
  
“I believe he has something to show you,” Nino presses this time, which, frankly, piques Sho’s interest.  
  
His hands freeze over the controls. “You already know what it is,” he deduces.  
  
“Of course, Sensei.”  
  
“And you’re not telling me because?”  
  
Nino beeps. “I believe it is in the best interest of both parties if I remain neutral over this matter.”  
  
“You’re the one who leaked my medical file to him,” Sho says, tone accusatory.  
  
“I estimated the percentage of you listening to my advice regarding your sleeping habits to be at fourteen point four percent. With the subject’s interference on my behalf, however, the chances rose to eighty-nine point two. I have taken liberties, Sensei. If that offends you, it will not happen again. But as always, your health is my utmost concern, and I will not hesitate to use any means necessary to make you comply if your wellbeing is at stake,” Nino explains patiently.  
  
“That’s a long way to say you’re sorry for meddling,” Sho says. He’s not impressed. He knows Nino is an AI designed as a suitable human companion, and that Nino is capable of making decisions on his own based on what he thinks will yield the best results.  
  
That part, Sho understands. But both Nino and Jun overreacted this time. It was just a crick in the neck. It happens all the time. He’s not young anymore.  
  
“Sensei,” Nino says, “I do not meddle unless it is necessary. You really need to fix your habit of sleeping in uncomfortable places.” Nino pauses. “Your work station, for instance, is not your bed.”  
  
Being told off by an AI is a wholly different experience. It’s like hearing your alarm clock judging you for not waking up on time despite its efforts.  
  
“It’s not like I’m deliberately choosing to sleep on concrete surfaces when I have a soft, comfortable bed waiting for me at my quarters,” Sho shoots back. He clicks his tongue in annoyance. “Promise me you won’t leak my medical information again unless it’s a life-threatening situation.”  
  
“You have my word, Sensei,” Nino agrees, almost immediately. “But back to my immediate concern: the subject has something to show you.”  
  
Sho blinks. He forgot about that. Now that he finally clarified things with Nino, he’s less angry about things.  
  
But then again. “He didn’t segregate the mixed frozen vegetables from the rations, did he?”  
  
Nino beeps. “No, he did not. In fact, he hasn’t been to the storage room since he put the assorted beans back.”  
  
Sho sighs. That’s good to know. At least he won’t be surprised by another “bean incident.”  
  
“Where is he?”  
  
“I believe, Sensei, that he is on his way here,” Nino informs him. He sounds rather amused by the entire situation, and Sho can somehow picture the face he’s attached to Nino to be sporting a shit-eating grin.  
  
Sho turns back to the joystick, making final adjustments to the panels. “When he’s here, let him in.”  
  
“As you wish, Sensei.”  
  
He doesn’t have to wait long; the door swooshes behind him in the next moment, followed by the unmistakable beeping of Jun’s accompanying droid. The fact that the nanny droid following him around hasn’t yet annoyed him is still something Sho can’t quite believe.  
  
“Yes?” Sho asks, only turning to face Jun when he’s got the panels locked in position. “What is it?”  
  
“Come with me,” is all Jun says.  
  
Sho has to remind himself that this particular creature before him hasn’t heard of apologies before and isn’t being rude on purpose. All the cultural differences make everything challenging between them, and Sho has to school his features to impassiveness before he replies.  
  
“Where to?”  
  
“I want to show you something,” Jun says. His expression reveals nothing. “Come.”  
  
Briefly, Sho wonders if Jun has decided to take revenge on him for his avoidance in the past few cycles. But Jun’s face betrays nothing; no inch of hatred or annoyance can be seen on his handsome features. If anything, he’s looking at Sho like he can wait all day for him despite the urgency in his tone.  
  
Nino would inform him beforehand if it was something potentially dangerous. Nino wouldn’t open the door either if that were the case.  
  
Sho extends a hand between them. “After you, then.”  
  
He has to wait for the droid accompanying Jun to exit first, followed by Jun, then himself, the door sliding shut behind them.  
  
Jun leads him to the mess hall, and it’s Sho who becomes bothered at the constant beeping that surrounds them.  
  
“Does it follow you everywhere?” he asks eventually. He knows the answer; he’s the one who suggested it to Nino after the “bean incident”.  
  
But he has to hear it from Jun himself.  
  
“Yes,” Jun answers.  
  
“Even when you do your business in the baths?” Sho asks.  
  
“The droid lingers by the doorway to the sonics,” Jun affirms.  
  
“And it doesn’t bother you?”  
  
Jun considers the question. “I can tune the beeping out.”  
  
Sho frowns. “What?”  
  
“My hearing is more sensitive and selective than yours,” Jun explains. “I can hear things you can’t if I want to, and selectively tune out the most repetitive sounds if I need to. I have long tuned the sounds out. If you didn’t mention it just now, I wouldn’t have remembered the droid following along.”  
  
Sho is amazed. That’s a remarkable ability. “That makes sense.”  
  
They reach the mess hall, and he follows Jun until they stop in front of the replicator.  
  
“You were going to show me the replicator?” Sho clarifies. “Why? What’s wrong with it?”  
  
“Nothing,” Jun says. He steps aside to let Sho see the entire machine, and it’s only then that Sho notices that the console beside it is gone.  
  
“What did you do?”  
  
“The food this machine of yours produces stale, bland food that is hardly edible,” Jun says, eyeing the replicator with distaste. “Put your hand against where the console used to be.”  
  
Sho does, and he nearly jerks back when the replicator lights up.  
  
“Keep your hand there,” Jun says. “It’s scanning.”  
  
There’s a corresponding beep after Jun says that, and suddenly, they both hear Nino.  
  
“What would Sensei like to eat?”  
  
Sho throws an incredulous look in Jun’s direction. “You synced the replicator to Nino.”  
  
“Yes,” Jun affirms.  
  
“What can it do now?” he asks.  
  
“Anything you can think of,” Jun says. “Tell Nino, and I’m sure that if it’s in his database, the replicator can make it. The more specific you are, the better. If you’d like, you can provide a list of your preferred foods so you can choose among them next time.”  
  
“And how long have you worked on this?” Sho has spent months tinkering with the replicator’s programming with minimal success, and here’s Jun, managing to improve the machine in ways Sho hasn’t even imagined.  
  
“Two days ago,” Jun says.  
  
Forty-eight hours. Jun apparently needs only forty-eight hours to make Sho’s life more comfortable.  
  
“It can make anything?” Sho asks.  
  
“I believe so,” Jun tells him.  
  
Sho decides with the one thing he’s always had issues with whenever the replicator makes it. “Coffee with a little milk and three cubes of sugar.”  
  
“Understood, Sensei,” Nino says, and the replicator powers to life.  
  
In minutes, Sho is nursing the best coffee he’s tasted in years. He wants to cry. He thinks it’s warranted. Every coffee the old replicator made tasted like a diluted coffee bean washout.  
  
This newly-defined replicator is better than any of the latest models ISS boasts of.  
  
“This is amazing,” he tells Jun sincerely while he tries not to sob at his mug of coffee. “What brought this on? Why did you even think of this? I know you hate the bland food, but I didn’t know you hated it that much. You don’t need to eat as much as I do.”  
  
Jun inclines his head. “You’ve been avoiding me since I brought you to the infirmary. I knew I had done something wrong, but I didn’t know what. I still don’t. But I wanted to make amends. Nino told me that I wouldn’t be able to find you if you were annoyed. So I didn’t try. Until today.”  
  
Sho stares at him, somewhat disbelieving. “You could’ve…” Then he remembers. “Oh. You don’t know how apologies work.”  
  
“I understand the idea of it,” Jun says. “The nanny droid explained it to me. But I don’t know how to apply it.”  
  
“You say you’re sorry,” Sho tells him. “That’s it.”  
  
Jun blinks in question. “There is more to it than that according to the nanny droid.”  
  
“Well, you have to mean it,” Sho explains. “You have to feel sorry for the wrong you’ve done and then you tell the person involved that you’re sorry. And it’s up to them if they will forgive you, but depending on the offense, you cannot blame them if they don’t. We humans are sensitive beings. Some of us hold on to grudges for long. And we cannot be blamed for how we process our feelings because each person is different.”  
  
He smiles and lifts the mug in his hands. “But I take it your kind are more prone to action than words. My annoyance wasn’t directed at you. It was directed at Nino for meddling. But you bore the brunt of it because Nino is an AI and you’re actually someone I can spend time with.” He lets out a breath. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have avoided you.”  
  
“You said I cannot hold you accountable for processing your emotions in a manner I didn’t expect,” Jun says.  
  
“I should’ve known better,” Sho tells him. “You told me before that apologies don’t exist in where you’re from.” He takes another sip of his coffee and lets out a tiny noise of satisfaction. “You didn’t have to make improvements to the replicator, but you did anyway. If your intention was to make amends, then you’ve achieved it. Thank you.”  
  
Jun frowns. “What?”  
  
“Thank you,” Sho repeats, “for your hard work these past two days.”  
  
The crease between Jun’s brows is yet to disappear. “What’s that?”  
  
“You don’t have a way of expressing gratitude on your planet?” Sho asks after his momentary confusion.  
  
“We show it,” Jun says. “We don’t say it.”  
  
“Oh,” Sho says, nodding. “Well, we do. We say thank you.”  
  
“Thank you,” Jun repeats.  
  
Sho laughs, his shoulders shaking. “We say it when we’re grateful to someone. I am grateful to you. You don’t have to say it back.”  
  
“Then what do I say to let you know that I accept your gratitude?” Jun asks.  
  
“You say, ‘you’re welcome,’” Sho explains. “And with apologies, if you forgive the person, you tell them as well. ‘I forgive you,’ or ‘you’re forgiven.’”  
  
“You’re welcome,” Jun says slowly, like he’s testing the words out. It’s rather cute to see him familiarizing himself with human customs, and Sho is a bit touched.  
  
He chuckles at the sight. He didn’t know an alien could be adorable.  
  
“Am I forgiven?” Jun asks after a moment.  
  
“You didn’t even say you’re sorry,” Sho reminds him playfully.  
  
Jun gives him a blank look, one he can’t help laughing at.  
  
“I’m teasing you,” he clarifies with a wave of his hand. “There’s nothing to forgive. But if you should hear it, then yes, I forgive you.” He stalks back to the replicator and makes another mug of coffee for Jun.  
  
Jun eyes it skeptically. “What do you call this?”  
  
“Coffee,” Sho says. He blows on the mug thrice before handing it over. “Try it. It’s a little hot for now, so be careful, but it’s good. It’s caffeine; helps to wake humans up. You probably have something similar on your planet though.”  
  
“We have energy drinks,” Jun says. At his questioning glance thrown at Sho’s direction, Sho lifts his own mug to his lips to blow on it, hiding his grin behind the mug when Jun slowly imitates him. “We also have protein drinks. Are they almost the same?”  
  
“This is better,” Sho assures him. He’s confident about coffee. “This is one of the best creations of mankind.”  
  
Jun stares at the mug and allows a moment to pass in quiet contemplation, as if he’s gauging if Sho can be trusted. Then he lifts the mug to his mouth and takes a small, almost demure sip.  
  
Sho eagerly waits for his reaction. “Well?”  
  
Jun licks his lips, familiarizing himself with the taste before he nods. “It’s good.”  
  
When Sho catches movement at their side, he lets out a quiet laugh. Before Jun can ask him why, he offers, “You want me to send it back?” He gestures to the droid. “It must be a bother.”  
  
“I don’t mind,” Jun says. “You said it was for security. My stay here means I submit to your protocols, right?”  
  
“But as thanks for the fantastic job you’ve done with the replicator, I figured I can tell it to leave you alone,” he explains. “Nino, send the nanny droid back.”  
  
“Will it be permanent, Sensei?” Nino asks after a beep.  
  
Sho nods. “Unless there is a need for it.”  
  
“Understood, Sensei,” Nino affirms.  
  
The droid wheels itself back and out into the hallway, and without the incessant beeping, Sho finds that he can enjoy his coffee more comfortably.  
  
Sneaking a glance at Jun reveals Jun smiling, the curve of his mouth drawing attention to the dark mark under his bottom lip.  
  
Then something unexpected occurs.  
  
His highlights, the golden strands in his hair that are scattered amidst the brown, begin to glow.  
  
“Your hair can glow,” Sho says, mesmerized. It’s not blinding. It’s a steady, soft glow, and he almost reaches out to touch Jun’s hair just to find out if the glow emits heat.  
  
“Does it hurt?” he asks, despite seeing no discomfort on Jun’s face.  
  
“No,” Jun assures him.  
  
“This is common for your kind?”  
  
Jun nods. “Yes.”  
  
“Wow,” Sho says, unable to conceal his awe. He can’t help smiling. “That’s really amazing.”  
  
Jun says nothing, and Sho doesn’t tear his eyes off him. Somehow, he has become more beautiful, and Sho can’t look away even if he wishes to.  
  
\--  
  
**2151.0519**  
  
A little over two months of living with an alien is enough for Sho to decide to delegate some of the maintenance tasks in the station. Jun is sufficiently capable and seems to understand the inner workings of the machines and computers around them more than Sho ever will, so Sho lets him make improvements to the research station’s facilities.  
  
For instance, Jun has figured out how to include an additional setting to the baths, enabling sonics as the default and water as the new addition.  
  
His explanation for the water source completely blew Sho’s mind, though. It shouldn’t have been possible.  
  
And yet.  
  
“There’s ice floating around this entire facility,” Jun points out when Sho asks the specifics. “Nino pertained to them as space debris, but I disagreed. I thought we could use the ice to have water in the baths if we found a way to collect them instead of just letting them float out there.”  
  
Sho finds himself nodding despite barely understanding anything. “And you did that with Nino.”  
  
Jun nods. “Yes.” He prods at the console before them and a holo projects into view, showing the exterior of the station. Jun points at a newly installed pipeline situated near the exhausts. “We placed them there to melt the ice after gathering them.”  
  
“And this is the basic technology for your kind?”  
  
Jun nods once more. “My people are engineers. I may not be the best among our kind, but I know enough.”  
  
“More than enough,” Sho corrects him. “Do you even realize that no other station out there has something like this? If I get a surprise visit from the ISS, how will I explain that?”  
  
“You can tell them you thought of it,” Jun says simply. “I have left the blueprints and the corresponding file in one of your drives. Nino should be able to access it for you if the time comes.” At Sho’s look of objection, Jun shakes his head. “I don’t mind. This kind of improvement on your facilities means nothing to me. I barely did anything, except tinker something that already exists.”  
  
“You invented something that is not yet possible for us, at least not for a few years,” Sho tells him. “That’s what you did.” He sighs. “Well, luckily for us, I don’t get visits from anyone.” Then he backtracks, remembering who he’s speaking with. “Anyone human, I mean.”  
  
He’s struck with a sudden thought that he maneuvers the console and projects the current star chart of known space: all the billions of galaxies and stars that ISS has mapped out so far.  
  
Then he faces Jun. “Where are you from?”  
  
Jun stares at the map floating between them before extending a hand to rotate the current view.  
  
“Where are we?” he asks.  
  
Sho shows him. “This is Sector 874-C,” he says, zooming in and out of the hologram to show how far he is from Earth and the Martian colony. “Nino, highlight the station’s location.”  
  
Nino beeps in acknowledgement. “Of course, Sensei.”  
  
A blinking red dot appears on the star chart, right where the research facility is.  
  
Jun extends his hand again to adjust the view, then he zooms in on another corner of the chart. “Can Nino name this one?” he asks, pointing to a part that doesn’t particularly stand out because of the density of the stars they’re looking at.  
  
Nino does, highlighting the position Jun indicated. “This is the Virgo galaxy cluster,” Nino says.  
  
“That’s just a bunch of stars,” Sho says flatly, unimpressed.  
  
“No, I wasn’t pertaining to the stars,” Jun says. “I know the stars. My planet revolves around them. Some of them are binary.” Then he frowns. “What do you call this one?”  
  
Nino responds, “This is designated as M49, part of the Virgo galaxy cluster.”  
  
“That’s not right,” Jun refutes, earning Sho’s frown. Jun turns to him. “Why do you call it a star?”  
  
“Because it’s a star,” Sho says.  
  
“No, it’s not. It’s a planet,” Jun insists. “My planet.” This time, he’s the one sporting a crease between his thick, impressionable eyebrows. “Your telescopes cannot see this far?”  
  
Sho is yet to recover from his shock at finding out that Jun is from a star cluster—which apparently has a planet somewhere in it. “No?”  
  
“Well,” Jun says with a shrug, “you will get there.”  
  
Sho stares at the map before them, floating and unimpressionable at first glance. How many planets here have been misidentified?  
  
“What’s your planet called?” he asks. “You know mine is Earth. What’s yours?”  
  
“Arashi,” Jun says. “That’s what we call it. When your people discover it in the future, you will likely attempt to give it a name, of course. In that time, I hope you can respect the name its inhabitants have long given it.”  
  
Sho knows the nature of humans, that in their selfish pursuit for discovery they often end up claiming things as theirs. He understands where it stems from; it’s not that humanity itself is prone to possess, but they’re accustomed to being the superior creature on their planet.  
  
When encountering something new, that mindset becomes second nature.  
  
“I can’t speak for that time,” he tells Jun sincerely. When their eyes meet, he flicks his hand over the map and addresses Nino. “Nino, whatever he said today, forget about it.”  
  
Nino beeps. “Are you certain, Sensei?”  
  
“What are you doing?” Jun asks. There is no judgment in his tone. He is genuinely puzzled.  
  
“Erase all information about his planet and reclassify it as M49,” Sho reiterates.  
  
“As you wish, Sensei,” Nino affirms. The changes are reverted, and Sho faces Jun once more.  
  
“I will remember what you told me about your planet,” he promises. “And I will keep everything a secret. My kind is not yet ready for this. We will be someday, but not now. And though I am a scientist, before I became one, I was first human. Being one means choosing the lesser evil. And so I choose not to make this discovery known. It’s not yet time.” He shakes his head. “I know how my people are often like. In the future, when that time comes, if we are still too ignorant and blinded by the thrill of a new discovery, I hope you will remember what you learned from me.”  
  
He offers Jun a small smile. “I hope you will forgive my people and teach them to do better.”  
  
“You are operating on the assumption that I will return to my planet eventually, just in time when your people finally know about us,” Jun says after a moment. “I cannot promise this. I won’t even live that long.”  
  
“But if you do, then I hope you don’t forget,” Sho tells him. “I’m not asking you to promise.”  
  
“My kind and yours are too alike,” Jun says, gesturing between them. The fact that he can pass for a human is not an overstatement. On some days, Sho finds it hard to believe he’s an alien. “But while yours is forgiving, mine is not. We are not kind.”  
  
“I disagree,” Sho says flatly, shaking his head when Jun looks at him. “I think you’re selling yourself short. I mean, you are kind to me. And you are kind to Nino; I think Nino already prefers you more than me.”  
  
“I like you both, Sensei,” Nino interjects, and Sho waves his hand in dismissal—he’s embarrassed enough. The AI really likes exploiting his moments of weakness.  
  
“As I was saying, I disagree with your assessment,” Sho continues, ignoring the heat of his cheeks. “I know you know better, but I’m allowed to have my own opinion of you, right? Well, in my opinion, you aren’t as scary as you make yourself out to be. And I mean that in the best possible way.” He can’t say anything more; he knows he’s—  
  
“Why are you red?” Jun asks curiously.  
  
Nino beeps and Sho knows that’s the AI’s way of laughing at his expense.  
  
“It’s a physiological reaction,” he states, seething. He suddenly wants to hide, so he lifts his hands over his face and squeezes his eyes shut. “Don’t look.”  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“Because I am embarrassed, that’s why!”  
  
“Why are you embarrassed?”  
  
“I just praised you,” he says through his teeth. He can’t believe this. This is the first time he has to explain to someone why he’s shy after complimenting them. Granted, Jun is an alien, but still. He can pass for a human! Why doesn’t he know these things? “And you looked at me like I wasn’t making sense—do I seriously have to explain this?”  
  
“That’s not how I was looking at you,” Jun counters.  
  
Sho rolls his eyes, grateful that Jun can’t see it behind his hands. “Yeah, sure.”  
  
He feels hands pry his own off his face, and he finds Jun sporting a small smile when their eyes meet.  
  
“Despite the similarities between us,” Jun says, “you still surprise me at times.”  
  
“Because I frequently find ways to embarrass myself in front of you? Thanks,” Sho says, deadpan. Was it only last week when Jun finally discovered how inept he is at cooking? He tried his best, but he’s really bad with a knife to the point that both Nino and Jun panicked and Jun had to take over lest Sho sends himself to the infirmary. And a few days before that, he fell asleep in his study again but happened to wake up in his room.  
  
When he asked Nino how that had happened, Nino simply showed him a footage of Jun carrying him back to his quarters. Sho had been so embarrassed that he avoided Jun for a day, despite everything being his fault. He’s a grown man, yet Jun managed to carry him like he could do it for hours.  
  
Shoving aside the thought that is thrilled at the display of strength, he still has his pride. He lets the pride win out because he doesn’t need anyone to take care of him. He’s almost forty.  
  
The soft look on Jun’s features is making his stomach flip. It should be illegal for someone like that to look at him this way; he’s supposed to be on his guard in front of an alien and not utterly smitten with it.  
  
Wait. Fuck. No.  
  
“Because I find you interesting,” Jun says evenly. He’s still not letting go, effectively trapping Sho under the weight of his stare, and Sho tries his best to hold on. He won’t lose.  
  
“Interesting as in you find me funny?” he tries.  
  
“No, I said you interest me,” Jun clarifies. How can he say such things with a serious face? Is it part of his alien biology? Is it genetic? Is it exclusive to his kind? Are all aliens this...dangerous?  
  
Sho is aware he is overreacting a bit. Maybe. But then again, he’s the only human to have been put in this situation: face-to-face with an insanely attractive alien whose eyes almost match his hair color. Any more of this and he might develop an immunity to the way Jun looks at him.  
  
“I am interested in you,” Jun adds, and Sho desperately ignores the butterflies that now settled in his gut.  
  
He’s not human, Sho reminds himself. He doesn’t understand human standard the way you do.  
  
He clears his throat. “Right,” he says slowly, nodding. “I’m the first human you met. In that case, I am interested in you, too. You are the first alien I’ve met.”  
  
“We are in agreement,” Jun says, glancing at the way his hands are still grasping Sho’s wrists. Sho has grown used to the warmth and he silently mourns the loss when he extracts his hands from Jun’s grip.  
  
“Yes, we are.” He avoids looking at Jun entirely and makes up an excuse to record his log for today. “I’ll be in the study.”  
  
He doesn’t hear Jun follow.  
  
\--  
  
**2151.0617**  
  
It’s probably strange that an AI has a birthday, but is it stranger than living in harmony with an alien for three months and counting? With no major incidents? Sho doesn’t think so.  
  
And so here he is.  
  
“Do you celebrate birthdays on your planet?” he asks Jun when they’re done replicating a small cake that Nino designed. It must be odd to have the AI design his own cake, but Sho has always had an open mind.  
  
“We do,” Jun says. “But not in the way you do.”  
  
“Oh, no cakes or candles then,” Sho says, nodding. “Noted. Well, this is how we do it in the human way.”  
  
Jun is frowning now as he watches Sho trying to position the candle at the center of the tiny cake. “How come Nino has a birthday?”  
  
Sho chuckles; he can’t help it. He was waiting for this question. “It’s the birthday of his engineer. The real Nino. I’m probably the only one out there who celebrates it aside from that guy. But coincidentally, when this station was established five years ago, Nino became its AI on the day of his engineer’s birthday. So you can say this facility’s birthday is also on the same day.”  
  
Nino beeps. “You’re a centimeter off-center, Sensei. May I suggest putting it behind the strawberry?”  
  
“It’s just a candle, relax,” Sho tells him, sticking the candle in anyway and ignoring Nino’s suggestion. “You can’t even blow it. I will have to blow it for you this time, just like before.”  
  
“How long have you been doing this?” Jun asks when they finally have the candle lit.  
  
“Uh, two years?” Sho says with a sheepish smile. “Nino, sing happy birthday.”  
  
“It seems counterproductive that I sing for myself, Sensei,” Nino points out.  
  
“Sing for your creator then, that jerk who gave you your entire personality,” Sho says.  
  
Nino obeys, but because he’s a smartass AI, he plays a recorded track of the song instead. Sho doesn’t mind. It achieves the same result.  
  
At the end of the song, Sho blows the candle and claps his hands. He’s aware that Jun has been watching him the whole time, and when he can no longer bear the staring, he turns to ask.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Why do you celebrate Nino’s birthday?” Jun asks.  
  
Sho no longer looks at him, instead reaching for the knife to get a slice for himself and another for Jun. “There’s no one else.”  
  
“What do you mean?” It’s clear that Jun doesn’t understand, and Sho has to let out a breath before he finds the courage to continue.  
  
“It’s stupid,” he tells Jun, “but there’s no one else. I’ve been on my own here for two years now. I don’t get lonely easily, but it does get lonely sometimes. Sometimes twice as much. Celebrating a birthday that isn’t my own helps, I guess. I know it’s dumb. But it helps. So I do it.” He forces himself to smile. “Anyway. Try this.” He pushes a slice towards Jun. “It’s sweet.”  
  
Jun does, chewing slowly as if deciding if he likes it or not. After a couple of moments, he nods. “It’s not bad.”  
  
“You’re the one who improved the replicator into making everything better, of course it’s not bad,” Sho reminds him. “You should try the birthday cupcakes it made before; those were just icing with barely any cake in it.” He takes a forkful and hums at how good it is. “This is loads better.”  
  
When he catches Jun looking at him, he throws a questioning look in Jun’s direction.  
  
“2151.0830,” Jun says.  
  
Sho frowns. “What?”  
  
“That’s my birthday following your stardate,” Jun says.  
  
“Is there food involved?” Sho asks; he’s ecstatic at the idea of celebrating another birthday that isn’t his own. He hasn’t prepared for a birthday surprise in years. The last time was in the Martian colony prior to him being deployed in Sector 874-C.  
  
Jun nods. “Nothing specific. There are food and drinking. And we celebrate surrounded by those important to us. I imagine it hardly differs from your customs.”  
  
“But you don’t have cake,” Sho says.  
  
Jun smiles. “No, we don’t.”  
  
“Well, this year you do,” he promises. He can’t help grinning at the thought of it. “Your first cake.” He gestures to Jun’s mostly untouched plate. “This isn’t to your liking?”  
  
“It’s all right,” Jun says. It’s a strawberry shortcake, one that Nino chose for himself. Sho allowed the AI out of respect since what they’re celebrating is said AI’s birthday. Jun samples another forkful. “The texture is strange, but not unpleasant. I can grow to like it.”  
  
“Ah but you don’t have to,” Sho assures him. “There are many kinds of cakes. Don’t let Nino’s choice influence your impression of them. They’re one of the greatest inventions of mankind.”  
  
Jun quirks a well-defined eyebrow. “You said the same thing about coffee.”  
  
“And I was right, wasn’t I?” Sho brags, waving a finger at Jun. “Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.” At Jun’s quizzical expression, he clarifies, “I meant, don’t be too skeptical. Don’t criticize unless you’ve tested it for yourself.”  
  
“Then I will hold you to your word,” Jun says simply.  
  
Sho nods. “You should. I know what I’m talking about. Just wait until you’ve tried a cheesecake. It’s the best one out there.”  
  
\--  
  
**2151.0703**  
  
There are two sections in the research facility designated to the recyclers. The one inside the station which is situated close to the cleaning droids (thanks to Jun’s help) and the one outside the station which is responsible for clearing the station’s trash and waste and eventually discarding them to space.  
  
So when Nino reports the recyclers malfunctioning, Sho waves it off casually and sends the engineering droids to the recyclers inside the station.  
  
Until Nino’s voice interrupts him again. Sho is in the middle of recording his audio log of the monthly rations he received from ISS; each station is required to submit one to verify receipt of such.  
  
“Sensei,” Nino says patiently, “I meant the main recyclers.”  
  
Sho pales. “What’s wrong with them?”  
  
“One of them had a malfunctioning fan,” Nino states calmly. “I have shut it down. The other two are still working, but we need the third one if we want to eliminate the station’s trash completely. I must ask Sensei to replace the fan.” As if sensing Sho’s growing anxiety, he adds, “I will still be connected to you when you wear the suit.”  
  
“You want me to spacewalk,” Sho says. He tries not to shudder; his entire body is now filled with dread. Sho hates spacewalking. This research facility is floating in the middle of nowhere but it’s self-sustaining with its own artificial gravity, but he still doesn’t like it. The idea of floating out there wearing antigrav boots to get to the recyclers is making his skin crawl; he’s always been terrified of heights.  
  
Granted, he is floating in space. But that endless blackness surrounding you only makes it more horrifying. This has never happened before.  
  
“I’m sorry, Sensei,” Nino says. For the record, he does sound apologetic about it. He knows about Sho’s acrophobia. “I can create a simulated environment for you if you like. You don’t need to see what’s actually out there.”  
  
The offer is tempting. A simulated environment is like a virtual reality; Sho won’t see the blanket of stars and debris around him as he does the walk.  
  
He casts a look in Jun’s direction, who’s presently preoccupied with the board game holo he recently created with Nino’s help. He must be in his fourth round by now.  
  
“Do you need help?” Jun suddenly asks without looking up, and Sho bristles.  
  
He always forgets that this guy is more attuned to sounds than he is; he likely heard everything but chose not to comment.  
  
“Can’t he do it, Nino?” Sho asks helplessly. He might be pouting. He doesn’t care. Jun is more capable than he is. Jun can replace that damn fan.  
  
“Unfortunately, Sensei, the station has your profile only,” Nino informs him, and Sho makes a quiet, sad noise. “Once the fan is replaced, the recycler will reboot, but it will require your override to proceed with the reboot. Which requires—”  
  
“—my bioprint,” Sho finishes at the same time as Nino. “You could’ve simply said no.”  
  
“I dislike seeing Sensei in situations he isn’t comfortable in,” Nino states. “I would have replaced it with the help of the engineering droids if that was possible. I have been handling the station’s repairs on my own. But I cannot spacewalk.”  
  
“All right,” Sho says, feeling guilty. It’s true; Nino’s been the one in charge of the entire facility for years. He knows the workings of it better than Sho does. He wouldn’t have asked if he could resolve the problem on his own.  
  
But Sho hates spacewalking. The very idea of it terrifies him.  
  
“I guess you can’t help this time,” he says to Jun, but Jun is looking at him like he said something unbelievable.  
  
“On the contrary, Sensei,” Nino begins, and Sho braces himself, “perhaps he can. If I may direct you both to the hangar?”  
  
Jun stands, and Sho sighs before following suit.  
  
“We know the way,” he tells Nino, and Nino waits until they reach the hangar before he speaks again.  
  
“I have prepared two suits,” Nino informs them. “Of course, Sensei will have to do the override once the fan is replaced.”  
  
“Then why is he coming along?” Sho asks, trying not to pay attention to how Jun is already putting on the suit. He’s been silent the whole time like he already knows what Nino is suggesting, and Sho is left wondering how Jun is able to understand the AI better than he does. He’s known Nino for longer!  
  
“Because Sensei is afraid of spacewalking and he isn’t,” Nino points out.  
  
“I’m scared of not having anything concrete under my foot,” Sho grits out. “I’m not scared of spacewalking. It’s completely different.”  
  
“If you say so, Sensei,” Nino says, the asshole.  
  
Sho glances in Jun’s direction and sees Jun handing his helmet to him.  
  
“The sooner we go out, the sooner it’s done,” Jun says. He doesn’t seem to be judging Sho’s irrational fear. For now. “Right?”  
  
“Right,” Sho finds himself saying, taking the helmet from Jun and putting it on. He dons the rest of the suit in haste, zipping up and stalking to the airlock’s direction like a petulant child.  
  
“Nino,” he says, and he hears a beep inside his suit.  
  
“Will Sensei like for me to simulate a different environment?” Nino offers.  
  
Sho swallows against a lump in his throat. “No need,” he says. He still has his pride.  
  
“Very well. I can activate it anytime, Sensei. Just say the word,” Nino reminds him.  
  
“Open the airlock, Nino,” is what Sho says instead.  
  
Nino does, the swoosh brought about by the doors opening barely audible thanks to the pounding in Sho’s ears. Space itself is what welcomes him—a neverending expanse of darkness interspersed with dust and stars.  
  
Before he can take a step outside, however, Jun moves ahead of him. He floats immediately thanks to the antigrav boots, but instead of drifting back, he grabs the ledge and extends his other hand to Sho.  
  
“Come on,” he coaxes gently.  
  
Sho is aware he’s perspiring in the suit, that his heart has lodged itself in his throat. He takes Jun’s hand and doesn’t dare let go, and only then does Jun move back, guiding them both outside.  
  
He doesn’t register the airlock closing. He doesn’t even know how far they are.  
  
“Perhaps you should reconsider Nino’s offer?” comes Jun’s voice, and it’s only then that Sho realizes he’s had his eyes closed the whole time.  
  
He shakes his head. “It will take time for Nino to render the virtual environment,” he reasons. “We might be done by then.”  
  
“All right,” Jun says. Sho feels him tug and he doesn’t resist, allowing his body to press against another. It serves as his anchor when he’s floating in the middle of nowhere, and he’d be stupid to let go.  
  
Jun guides them to where the recyclers are, and Sho keeps his eyes shut the entire time. Briefly, he feels one of Jun’s arms wrap around his back, drawing him closer, and he doesn’t resist. Maybe there’s a beam they have to avoid or there’s a rock as big as his head that’s about to hit him. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t really care, either.  
  
“Relax,” Jun tells him.  
  
“Are we there yet?” he asks, voice small.  
  
“Just a bit more,” Jun says. “Relax. I’m holding you. You’re fine.”  
  
Sho has to let out a couple of measured breaths in order to do so, feeling tension slowly seep out of his shoulders. He unclenches his jaw and tries to imagine himself on the ground instead, inside the safety of the station.  
  
It takes a while, but it works. His heart rate slows and he can finally hear things more clearly—he can hear Jun’s breathing inside his suit, through his comms. He lets it calm him, and by the time they reach the recyclers, Sho is no longer a nervous wreck.  
  
When he opens his eyes, he sees Jun looking at him through their helmets. At their side is the recycler, and from here is Sho’s turn.  
  
Sho realizes that Jun holding him meant that Jun is _actually_ holding him—an arm around Sho’s waist, one of Sho’s hands in his, and their legs almost entangled. If the helmets and the suit itself weren’t bulky, they would be a little too intimate.  
  
He’s thankful the helmet can sufficiently conceal the inevitable flushing of his cheeks at the thought. He clears his throat and turns in Jun’s hold, facing the recycler and keeping his attention on it.  
  
“Nino,” he says, hearing Nino beep in response, “open the hatch of this thing.”  
  
Nino does, and through Nino’s guidance, he finds the broken fan and carefully removes it. He hands it to Jun.  
  
“Hold on to that,” he says, pointing at the soot-covered piece of metal. The source of his current problems. “Once we get this working, that’s the first thing I’m recycling.”  
  
Jun doesn’t comment, and Sho resumes screwing panels and sealing the hatch once he’s done. He waits for a few seconds before the recycler whirs to life, and he tries not to jump when he feels Jun’s hands grab his hips to draw him back a little when the recycler starts creaking.  
  
“Nino, it’s not broken, is it?” he asks just to be sure.  
  
“I was unable to empty it prior to shutting it down,” Nino explains. “Please wait, Sensei. It will prompt for a reboot soon.”  
  
“Oh, sure,” Sho says. Not like he can do much. “I don’t mind waiting,” he adds sarcastically.  
  
“The prompt for a reboot should be on the panel now, Sensei,” Nino says.  
  
Sho presses his hand on the panel, allowing the sensors to scan him in the suit. When it’s done, it asks for a confirmation and Sho jabs his finger at the YES.  
  
It’s Jun who pulls him back when the recycler lets out a shrill whir. Sho tries not to enjoy the way Jun’s hands feel on his hips but fails; there’s someone stronger and more reliable acting as his support, and it’s hard not to be happy about something like that.  
  
Also, Jun’s hands are large enough to perfectly frame his hips.  
  
“Where’s the damn fan from earlier?” he asks, hoping his voice doesn’t betray how affected he is.  
  
Jun hands it to him without a word.  
  
“Nino, can I chuck it inside the recycler’s mouth to see if it works?” he asks.  
  
“Of course, Sensei,” Nino replies. “But I assure you, it is working perfectly.”  
  
“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” he explains to Nino. “I just hate this fan.”  
  
He has to extend his trunk to reach the recycler’s mouth, and he smiles when he hears the satisfying crunch that subsequently follows the moment he drops the fan inside.  
  
“Okay,” he tells Jun, patting Jun’s hands on his person. “We can head back.”  
  
He makes the mistake of looking under his feet when he turns to face Jun and he nearly faints. There’s nothing. It’s just inky blackness, a void that doesn’t end.  
  
“Look at me,” Jun says, voice cutting through the haze.  
  
Sho does, and he holds on to Jun this time, both hands clutching his arms. He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to forget where he is, overly conscious of his breathing as they move.  
  
“Relax,” Jun tells him gently. Sho feels him run a soothing hand at the small of Sho’s back. It’s comforting, and Sho wishes he can feel the warmth of Jun’s touch through his suit. “You’re as stiff as the pipes I assembled outside so we can have running water inside.”  
  
Affronted, Sho jams his fist against Jun’s chest. Not that it will hurt him; his build is designed to withstand damage that the human body cannot. “I am relaxed,” he insists. “Can we move faster?”  
  
“We are moving faster,” Jun assures him.  
  
Sho feels him take one of his hands off his chest, guiding it forward, and Sho feels the familiar sensation of metal under his fingers.  
  
He opens his eyes and sees the airlock open, with Nino undoubtedly opening it for them without an order. Snarky AI though he might be, he’s still the most reliable piece of technology Sho has ever seen.  
  
They step inside the tunnel connecting them to the station and wait, but Nino doesn’t shut the door of the airlock behind them.  
  
Curious, Sho prods, “Nino?”  
  
“Please look outside for a moment, Sensei,” Nino says.  
  
Sho does, and out there, in the distance, is a solar storm. It’s too far to cause them harm, but it’s bright enough to leave streaks amidst the darkness. Usually, these phenomena are only seen from Earth, creating auroras.  
  
For a moment, Sho remains there, watching the storm pass while Jun stands beside him. He waits until it disappears from their sight and steps back.  
  
“Thank you, Nino,” he says as Nino shuts the airlock and begins the disinfection process.  
  
“I would say ‘you’re welcome,’ Sensei, had it been my idea,” Nino informs him.  
  
He faces Jun questioningly, hoping it can be conveyed through his helmet and with all the disinfection steam around them. He thinks it can’t. “How did you know there was a solar storm?”  
  
“I saw it,” Jun says. “You had your eyes closed the entire time.”  
  
“I didn’t hear you give an order to Nino,” he points out.  
  
“Because you were too busy being angry at my comment from earlier,” Jun explains. He doesn’t seem offended by Sho’s petulant behavior; in fact, he seems rather amused by it.  
  
Sho doesn’t know what to think. When the steam subsides, he sees Jun taking off his helmet, and the image is so arresting that he almost ceases breathing. It’s the way Jun shakes off the hair that stuck to his face and runs a hand through it. Jun has always possessed very distinct features—the combination of which should be glaring overall, but isn’t. It’s peculiar. It shouldn’t work like that; Sho is quite certain that on any other person it would look jarring and irregular.  
  
But on Jun's face it just… _works_. He’s aesthetically pleasing to the eye, and Sho wonders briefly if he’s aware.  
  
He catches himself before Jun does and takes off his helmet, deliberately not looking at his alien companion who happens to be hot. And probably Sho’s type. He’s not sure. He might have to reevaluate his dating history back when he was still on Earth and during his brief stay in the Martian colony.  
  
He thinks he’s doomed. The only creature he’s attracted to happens to be not human and is also living in the facility in secret.  
  
He’s fucked.  
  
Well, he thinks, on the upside, at least Nino can’t hear his thoughts.  
  
\--  
  
**2151.0726**  
  
He finds out about the newest addition to the facility when he sees the engineering droids wheeling towards the observatory despite not getting any notifications about ongoing repairs from Nino. Nino always informs him when something is broken or temporarily unavailable so he’d know which places to avoid for the time being.  
  
“Nino,” he says, stretching in front of his desk, “what is he up to?”  
  
If it’s not Nino, it’s got to be Jun. There is no one else.  
  
“I believe, Sensei, that he is constructing a garden,” Nino replies. He sounds cheerful about it; sometimes Sho wonders if the AI is growing fond of the alien. It wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to happen, but it’s a heartbreaking thought. He’s been with Nino for more than two years now.  
  
“A garden,” Sho echoes.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Nino, we’re in outer space,” he points out.  
  
“I am very much aware, Sensei,” Nino says, because he’s a little shit.  
  
“How is he constructing a garden in outer space? There’s no sun for the plants to photosynthesize from,” he argues. “Did he direct one of the solar panels towards the observatory? We need all panels in the correct position to keep the entire station running!”  
  
“I wouldn’t have allowed him to interfere with the station’s controls, Sensei,” Nino reminds him. “He hasn’t touched the solar panels. He only enlisted the help of the engineering droids to create the garden.”  
  
Sho pushes his seat back and heads to the station’s observatory, which is on the opposite wing from the bridge. On his way there, he fires another question at Nino. “Why didn’t you inform me about this?”  
  
“I saw no harm in his actions, Sensei,” Nino explains. “I didn’t inform you because you were quite preoccupied with analyzing the readings from last week.”  
  
“Like how you didn’t inform me when he improved the replicator with your help?”  
  
“I thought that one worked better as a surprise for Sensei,” Nino tells him.  
  
Sho didn’t want to admit that Nino was right. “So were you planning on this one to be another surprise?” he wonders.  
  
“I wanted to see the end product first, Sensei. We both know he’s an engineering genius.”  
  
Sho can’t deny that. Jun excelled in looking at rooms for improvement in things that are working perfectly. His constant tinkering led to two settings for the baths and a fantastic replicator. Sho wonders what would happen if Jun tinkers with one of the droids.  
  
He reaches the observatory and finds Jun surrounded by three engineering droids, a screwdriver held between his lips as he holds a metal plate while one of the droids welds it into place.  
  
“Nino told me you were building a garden,” is how he approaches the topic.  
  
Jun turns to face him and inclines his head as if saying, _yes_.  
  
One of Sho’s eyebrow lifts. “There’s no plant that can survive here unless they don’t photosynthesize.” He gestures outside, past the glass panels where the exterior of the station can be seen. “Unless you installed your own solar panel without my knowledge.”  
  
Jun mumbles something incomprehensible because of the screwdriver in his mouth.  
  
“Come again?” Sho asks.  
  
Jun looks up and mumbles a word.  
  
“He says he doesn’t have the necessary tools to install his own solar panel or he would have done it long ago,” Nino says overhead.  
  
“Of course you can understand him,” Sho says.  
  
“I’ve analyzed his laryngeal movement and matched it to his speech pattern,” Nino supplies. “That was an approximation of his words, Sensei, but I believe I grasped the gist of it.”  
  
Sho sighs. “Okay, so how will your plants survive?”  
  
Another mumble. Sho wishes Jun will just drop the screwdriver, but the welding is still ongoing and it seems he can’t let go of the plate just yet.  
  
“Nino?” Sho prods.  
  
A beep. “He says his plant doesn’t require sunlight.”  
  
“Oh,” Sho says, nodding. Maybe it’s decorative and made out of plastic? In that case, it definitely doesn’t need sunlight. “Where did you get this plant?”  
  
The mumble this time is quite long that Sho can’t help smiling. There’s something amusing with the sight of someone attractive making incomprehensible noises because there’s something between their lips. When Jun finishes, he waits expectantly for Nino to translate.  
  
“Nino?” he calls out.  
  
A beep. “I believe, Sensei, that his pod housed a compartment in which he kept the plant’s seed. He says he forgot about it until recently and wanted to see if it will thrive in an environment that is different from his planet.”  
  
Huh, Sho thinks. Guess an AI can’t be beaten. “What kind of plant is it?”  
  
Jun mumbles once more in response.  
  
This time, Nino doesn’t wait for Sho’s prompting. “He says you’ll find out if it grows.”  
  
Sho kind of figured that out himself. “It’s not dangerous, is it?”  
  
Jun shakes his head. Then he mumbles again.  
  
“He says it’s native to his planet,” Nino supplies. Another set of mumbling. “And that if it grows, there will be no need to worry about plants not growing.”  
  
Now, Sho’s interest is piqued. A self-sustaining plant that can provide nourishment to other plants? That’s the kind of flora humans would die to have; it’ll be easier to build colonies with something like it around.  
  
But then again, it probably only grows on Jun’s planet.  
  
Still, Sho errs on the side of caution. “Nino, encrypt the footage of the conversation just now.”  
  
“Triple, Sensei?”  
  
“Yes,” Sho says. “No one may access it but me.”  
  
“Understood, Sensei.”  
  
He can’t have anyone see this. Not that he’s being observed since the ISS believes Sector 874-C remains as uneventful as it had been for the past couple of years, but it doesn’t hurt to be cautious. If anyone hears of this plant, they will want it for themselves. Sho can imagine a number of corporations willing to pay a fortune for it.  
  
And the alien before him, owner of said miracle plant seed, is unaware and concentrating hard on creating a symmetrical pot for his plant. Somehow, Sho doesn’t want to destroy Jun’s ignorance.  
  
But he knows Jun has heard his order just now. He will not understand.  
  
“The plant you spoke of just now has the power to make the Martian colony thrive,” Sho explains without prompting. “And any other colony in the future. If my people get their hands on it, they will use it for the colony.”  
  
Jun’s eyes remain on the rectangular pot that he’s making. But he mumbles something, and Sho waits for Nino to interpret his words.  
  
“He’s asking if that’s bad if they will use it to the colony’s advancement, Sensei.”  
  
His naïveté is understandable but also enviable, Sho thinks. He wishes he doesn’t know exactly how foul human nature can be.  
  
“They will ask for an insane amount of money for it,” Sho explains further. “More than its true worth, perhaps. And they will want more of it. They will try to find out where it grows and will take all of it so they can sell everything in bulk.” He approaches Jun and crouches at his side. “Whatever this plant is, I don’t think it should be exploited like that. If it’s native to your planet, I don’t think humans can have it.”  
  
This time, Sho reaches up to remove the screwdriver, holding it in his hands.  
  
“I don’t mind sharing,” Jun tells him, “if it can help your people live better lives.”  
  
Sho shakes his head, a soft smile crossing his features. “However good your intentions may be, my people will distort it. There will always be bad people out there, people who are waiting for the opportune moment to set themselves ahead of everybody else. You’re very kind; I’ve always known that. But I would rather not have my people know of your kindness if they’re going to abuse it in the end. You don’t deserve that.” He stares at the pot, still missing a side. “This plant will remind you of home. I won’t let anyone destroy something like that.”  
  
He’s determined to keep everything about Jun a secret. He knows he’s turning his back on the scientific community with this decision, but the fate that awaits Jun should the ISS find out about him is not something Sho wants for him. Jun is too kind. He’s naïve, too, perhaps thinking that all humans are like Sho.  
  
If Sho can protect him, he would.  
  
“Do you trust me?” he asks Jun.  
  
Jun nods once.  
  
“Then trust me on this.”  
  
Jun is silent for a few seconds, but he nods again. “All right.”  
  
He flashes Jun what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “I hope your plant grows. If it doesn’t, I’m sure you’ll find a way.”  
  
He stands with a grunt, massaging his knees to promote recirculation. “As long as you don’t touch the solar panels, we’re good. This station relies on them for energy, and if one of them is out of place, it’ll be trouble for me.”  
  
He twirls the screwdriver between his fingers before offering it back to Jun.  
  
He doesn’t expect Jun to lean forward, but then again, Jun is still holding the plate in place as the droids continue welding the corner, attaching it to the other plate.  
  
Jun’s lips close around the screwdriver’s handle, but not before briefly making contact with Sho’s fingers. Sho nearly jolts at how soft they felt, accompanied by the rush of hot breath as Jun exhaled.  
  
Sho’s throat suddenly feels too dry.  
  
He makes a poor excuse about leaving his work unattended and nearly bolts out of the observatory, and when he’s positive he’s out of Jun’s hearing range, he runs his hands down his face and lets out a groan.  
  
He feels like a teenager.  
  
But this is the first time he’s had contact with Jun in this manner; Jun is not a touchy alien. He only touches Sho when necessary—when Sho stumbles in his step and needs to be hauled back in place or when he’s handing something to Sho and their fingers brush briefly. Hardly significant, Sho thinks, but each one enough to make him almost jump out of his skin. There’s something electric about it, and sometimes he catches himself wondering if Jun feels it too whenever they make contact.  
  
“Sensei,” Nino drawls, successfully pulling him free from his intrusive thoughts, “shall I encrypt that footage as well?”  
  
Sho knows he’s pertaining to the screwdriver.  
  
Can an AI be murdered? Will it count as murder when it’s an AI?  
  
“Delete it,” Sho says through his teeth, imagining the smirking face of the damn AI’s engineer and hating it all the more.  
  
“Of course,” Nino says, smugness palpable from each syllable. “Anything for Sakurai-sensei.”  
  
Sho curses him in his mind.  
  
\--  
  
**2151.0813**  
  
The next time Sho visits the observatory, there is a noticeable little sprout inside the rectangular pot.  
  
That’s not what bothers him.  
  
It’s the tiny flecks of white surrounding the sprout’s green bulb that does.  
  
“Are those teeth?” he asks warily when he sees Jun checking up on it. Jun seems to be monitoring its daily progress; he did seem dejected a week ago when there weren’t any changes inside his pot.  
  
But then the plant thrived. A little slower than its usual, according to Jun, but it did. And it continues to thrive, growing steadily despite being in a different environment. Sho admires its resilience, but he is a bit unsettled at its appearance.  
  
“Careful,” Jun cautions, drawing his hand away when he reaches for it. Sho understands his overprotectiveness, but he is merely curious if the white flecks would feel soft or hard. “He hasn’t tasted a human before.”  
  
All the blood drains from Sho’s face and he hurriedly pulls his hand back. “Tasted?!” He looks back at the tiny sprout and then back at Jun. “Are you raising an evil plant army here?”  
  
Out of the many ways Sho has imagined dying at the hands of an alien, he has to admit that the evil plant soldier completely eluded his line of thinking. Will it grow vines that will eventually strangle him in his sleep? Will it continue growing and cover everything in leaves? Will Sho become its fertilizer?  
  
He wants to cry. He never imagined dying because of a monster plant.  
  
“No,” Jun tells him, amused. It’s undeniable; there’s a particular glint in his eye as he looks at Sho panicking. “I just said he hasn’t tasted a human before. Not that he eats humans.”  
  
“He?” Sho repeats.  
  
Jun nods. “He’s sentient.”  
  
The stuff of nightmares. Sho takes a step back and wonders if he can seal the observatory for good. “Are you telling me that in time, this plant of yours can uproot himself? And that he’s a male?”  
  
“He’s not going to bloom so yes, I think he is a male,” Jun says after thinking about it for a moment. “And yes, he will uproot himself. He will stay within the pot though.”  
  
No wonder the pot itself seemed too big. Sho initially thought it was too spacious for one tiny plant, but if said tiny plant can move around, then Sho is left hoping that the pot is big enough for it to remain there. He cannot live in peace if he imagines otherwise.  
  
“Can you explain to me what this plant does?” he asks helplessly.  
  
“It’s known as a guardian,” Jun says patiently, but he still sports that grin of amusement he’s had on his face since he saw Sho’s growing paranoia. “It can provide nourishment to other plants and protect them too. If he can grow here, you can plant others. He will not harm them. He will, however, consume weeds and the like.”  
  
“How will it provide nourishment?”  
  
“It will provide light,” Jun explains. At Sho’s dumbfounded expression, he adds, “It’s really not so strange.” He points to his hair. “This can glow as well. Think of it as the same thing.”  
  
Sho finds himself nodding slowly, appreciating the fact that Jun has dumbed down his explanations for Sho’s benefit. Now that he knows it’s not a walking Venus flytrap, he feels better. “I guess we’re sticking to he or him when pertaining to this plant?”  
  
“I have thought of a name for him,” Jun says with a smile, like he’s a proud plant father.  
  
Belatedly, Sho realizes that he is.  
  
Jun extends his hand towards the tiny sprout. “This is Masaki, a guardian plant from my planet.”  
  
As soon as he says that, the plant emits a tiny, faint glow, as if on cue.  
  
Sho’s mouth hangs open at the sight of it.  
  
“I think that means he is pleased to meet you,” Jun says. “This plant species never really met another kind before; they didn’t survive on other planets when others tried to plant them there.”  
  
“Is the glowing somehow related to you?” he asks. “Is it something everyone and everything on your planet can do?”  
  
“He glows because he can,” Jun tells him. “There is no meaning to it.” He smiles at Sho. “He will keep on glowing from now on; he didn’t glow yesterday because his bioluminescent apparatus was still underdeveloped.”  
  
After Jun speaks, Masaki’s light begins to dim.  
  
“So he’s still too young,” Sho concludes.  
  
“He will continue to grow,” Jun says confidently. “Perhaps in a week, you can start planting the beans you don’t use. Masaki will provide for them and protect them.”  
  
“You know what, you do that,” he tells Jun. “I’m not very good at gardening, but I believe Nino has a remarkable index regarding it. “ He eyes Masaki curiously now. With the name Jun has given it, it’s hard to believe it can cause harm. “Nino can help you.”  
  
“Shall we try tomatoes, Sensei?” Nino asks after a beep.  
  
“Sure,” Sho says. “I haven’t tasted homegrown vegetables in a while; it’s always the genetically engineered ones we get as rations and they do taste a little different.” He shrugs. “Go wild.”  
  
He looks at Masaki and realizes that Jun has managed to create a plant baby.  
  
He finds himself laughing at the thought.  
  
\--  
  
**2151.0829**  
  
“Sensei.”  
  
Sho pointedly ignores the AI; all his attention is on getting the measurements of the ingredients accurately.  
  
“Sensei,” Nino repeats.  
  
Sho doesn’t reply.  
  
But an AI is an AI and Nino doesn’t tire. It’s Sho who eventually does, gritting out a “what” after Nino’s—fifth? Or sixth? Whatever—attempt at getting his attention.  
  
“The replicator is functioning perfectly,” Nino informs him.  
  
“I am aware,” Sho responds.  
  
“It can make anything, Sensei. Our genius engineer has recently placed new recipes into my system—certain recipes from his home planet that we can recreate with our ingredients. Surely we can make those instead?” Nino offers.  
  
“And we will make them tomorrow,” Sho assures him. “You heard what he said, Nino. Food and drinking are part of their birthday celebrations. So we will make things from his home.”  
  
“Sensei, it is to my belief that the replicator can create something better than what you’re attempting,” Nino says this time. In his casual tone, it’s more scathing. “Let’s use the replicator, Sensei.”  
  
Sho puts down the measuring cup in annoyance. “It won’t feel personal if we do that, Nino.” He pouts. “I thought you believed in me?”  
  
“I have been with you for two point seven years, Sensei,” Nino reminds him. “I know that this is beyond you.”  
  
“Making cheesecake is beyond me?” Sho clarifies.  
  
“Sensei and the kitchen do not make for a trustworthy combination,” Nino says.  
  
“When my contract is over,” he swears, “I will find your engineer and tell him he’s a jerk.”  
  
“Part of my program includes evaluating potential outcomes when presented with certain scenarios. I have sixteen incidents to cite as references as to why Sensei cannot be trusted with recipes that require a higher level of skill than the average person,” Nino tells him, which, in Nino-speak, is the kind way of saying that what Sho’s attempting is something he can’t do.  
  
Sho deliberately ignores him, and when he’s satisfied with his measurements, follows the recipe he’s printed a copy of and stuffs the mixture in the oven.  
  
He just wants to let Jun have a taste of his favorite cake. And he wants to personally make it for Jun. What's wrong with that? Why is this damn AI so pessimistic?  
  
“Sensei,” Nino says once more.  
  
“What,” Sho deadpans. He’s certain there will be a series of skepticism from the AI once more.  
  
“I believe the crust is burning,” Nino informs him lightly, and Sho panics.  
  
He hurriedly pulls out the tray and checks, only to see that Nino is right. The crust has burned into a crisp and the mixture barely took shape. He stares at his pitiful attempt and pulls a long face.  
  
“The fire was set too high,” Nino informs him belatedly. He almost sounds guilty about it.  
  
“Well, why didn’t you adjust it accordingly?” Sho shoots back.  
  
“Out of your desires to make this as personal as possible, Sensei, you have disabled my controls in the kitchen and set everything to manual override,” Nino reminds him. “As such, by the time I detected it, it was too late.”  
  
Fuck. Sho forgot that he did that.  
  
He hides his face in his hand and waves the other. “Disable manual override and revert back to default.”  
  
“As you wish, Sensei,” Nino acknowledges. “May I suggest the services offered by the replicator once more?”  
  
Defeated, Sho nods. It smells like something burned in the kitchen, because something did. He’s not looking forward to explaining this to Jun. In fact, he’s hoping Jun will never find out. That will be embarrassing.  
  
“Show me your entire cheesecake database,” he demands, and Nino is only too happy to comply. The AI must think that the crisis has been averted.  
  
“As you wish, Sensei.”  
  
\--  
  
**2151.0830**  
  
By the time Jun enters the mess hall, Sho has the food arranged with the cheesecake sitting right at the center, and Nino is blasting happy birthday repeatedly, except Sho is singing along as well. Sho has commissioned the droids to sing with him, and now even their beeping is to the tune of happy birthday.  
  
It’s overkill. He knows that.  
  
But he hasn’t celebrated somebody else’s birthday before. Someone who can walk, speak, eat, and hang out with him and not an AI who disapproves of his culinary attempts seven times out of ten.  
  
Jun stands awkwardly by the doorway that Sho tugs him inside, his singing now off-key. He flashes Jun a huge grin; he might be happier than the celebrant. But he can’t help himself; he’s no longer alone! That’s something to be happy about!  
  
“Happy birthday,” he tells Jun.  
  
Jun looks around them. “The droids can sing?”  
  
“That’s the part you focus on?” Sho asks. He laughs. “Yes. Well, they can hardly carry a tune, but they can sing if monotonous singing is all right with you.”  
  
“On my planet, I spend the morning of my birthdays on my own before I meet up with others,” Jun tells him. “If I am late to your...preparations, it’s because of that.”  
  
Sho dismisses the apologetic tone. “It’s okay. I figured you had your own customs so I decided to wait here with everyone.” He notices the stillness in Jun’s expression and begins to worry. “What is it? Is it too much? Did I overstep my bounds?”  
  
Jun stays silent for a while, long enough for Sho to let him go. The singing has stopped—even Nino seems to sense the terse shift in the ambiance.  
  
“I am not fond of surprises,” Jun admits.  
  
“Oh,” Sho says, deflating. He tries to salvage the situation, hand coming up to rub his nape. “I mean, I kind of implied it? When you told me about your birthday. I said you’d get cake. But...yeah, I should’ve told you.” He laughs, forced and awkward. “Sorry. Did I ruin it?” He smiles sadly. “It’s just that I never really celebrated somebody else’s birthday before.”  
  
This time, Jun is frowning. “You celebrate Nino’s aside from your own.”  
  
“Nino is an AI,” Sho says. He wants to hide now; he knows he’s overdone it and he hasn’t even sought out Jun’s permission beforehand. What if that’s how they do things on his planet? Sho hates himself for overlooking this because he was simply too excited. “It’s just...well, there’s never been someone else, really. I’ve—”  
  
—been alone all this time, he can’t say. It sounds too pathetic and he feels like he’s playing victim when it’s him who has clearly done something wrong, so he trails off and lets out a breath. His loneliness is no one’s responsibility. Certainly not Jun’s, and it’s not up to Jun either to do something about it.  
  
“Sorry,” he tells Jun, ignoring how his chest is constricting. “I’m sorry. Can we start all over again? I’d hate to ruin your birthday, not when this is your first here. I should send the droids away, right? I’ll go do that.” He knows he’s panicking, that everything is ruined. “Send the droids back, Nino.”  
  
“As you wish, Sensei,” Nino affirms.  
  
The droids leave and Sho looks around. “Uh, if you’d like to spend the rest of this day on your own terms, that’s totally fine.” He inclines his head in apology. “I’m really sorry. I should’ve asked.” He takes a step back. “I’ll be right on the bridge.”  
  
His attempt to leave is halted by Jun’s hand wrapping around his wrist.  
  
“You’re sad,” Jun notes.  
  
“I’m fine,” Sho insists, forcing himself to smile. “I’ll be out of your hair in a bit.”  
  
He tries to free himself but Jun’s grip tightens in response. Not enough to hurt, but enough to make a point.  
  
“I’ve made you sad,” Jun says.  
  
“No!” Sho denies immediately, shaking his head. “No, you didn’t. It’s just…a typical human reaction. It’s nothing. I’m fine, really. Don’t worry about me.” He taps Jun’s hand in reassurance but Jun still doesn’t let him go.  
  
“Do you remember what I told you about birthdays on my planet?” Jun suddenly asks.  
  
Sho swallows through the lump that lodged in his throat before he speaks. “You said there are food and drinks involved. He glances to their side where a mixture of human and Arashian cuisine lay. “But no cake. So I took care of the cake.”  
  
“Is that all you remember?” Jun asks.  
  
Sho racks his brain for the memory. He nods slowly after a moment. “Yes? I think.”  
  
“Nino,” is all Jun says.  
  
“Would you like me to play the footage?” Nino asks after a beep.  
  
“Please,” Jun replies.  
  
Sho can’t remember anything else, not even when the holo starts playing that is a reel of their conversation more than three months ago. He couldn’t have missed anything else, right? He had Nino by his side all this time and Nino didn’t object to a thing while they were making preparations!  
  
Sho turns to the holo and watches it carefully until he reaches the cake part.  
  
“You said no cake,” he says again, pointing at the holo.  
  
“Keep watching,” Jun tells him.  
  
Until he hears what the Jun from three months ago says in the holo and it hits.  
  
_We celebrate surrounded by those important to us._  
  
For a moment, Sho thinks his soul may have left his own body. He can’t be hearing right. But the footage kicks off the memory, and yes, he _does_ remember Jun saying that.  
  
Still. That doesn’t mean he can believe it easily.  
  
He clears his throat to save face, just as the holo ends and disappears. “Shall I call the droids back?” he tries.  
  
Jun finally smiles, done so slowly that Sho's knees suddenly feel weak. “The droids aren’t important to me.” Jun’s grip on his wrist squeezes once before letting go. “Don’t leave.”  
  
“It’s not that I want to,” Sho reasons. “I’m just afraid I’ll overstep again if I don’t.”  
  
Jun dismisses his concern with a minute shake of his head. “Stay.”  
  
The commanding tone that accompanies that ignites something in Sho that sends his heart hammering. He hopes Jun can’t hear it despite knowing that Jun has enhanced hearing. Fuck. Can Jun hear heartbeats? Sho hopes not. Or he will never be able to look at Jun in the eye again.  
  
“Okay,” he agrees, and Jun’s smile broadens.  
  
Then his highlights begin to glow.  
  
He’s too beautiful that it’s unfair, Sho’s traitorous mind thinks. But he figures it’s the guy’s birthday—he’s allowed to look good on his birthday. He turns to the food to distract himself. “Uh, would you like to tell me what these are?”  
  
He gestures towards the Arashian cuisine.  
  
Jun hums in agreement, explaining the dishes in detail, but most of what he’s saying goes over Sho’s head. He’s attempting to regulate his own heart rate, but he can’t have misread the situation, right? Jun doesn’t want the droids but doesn’t mind having Sho around.  
  
Does that mean he’s important? To Jun?  
  
The thought is so presumptive but he can’t deny how happy it makes him. Jun thinks he’s important! Granted, that might be because he’s the first human Jun has met and he allows Jun to live here, but still. He’s important enough to warrant a birthday invitation! It’s something he’s extremely delighted about and he thinks he can’t hide his elation that well.  
  
He blinks and is greeted by the sight of Jun offering him a piece of food that’s trapped between his chopsticks. Sho didn’t even notice him move.  
  
“Try it,” is all Jun says this time. He must’ve explained what this dish was a minute or two ago, but Sho wasn’t paying attention so...  
  
Sho foregoes his pride for once and leans forward, wrapping his lips around the chopsticks. Whatever Jun just fed him is savory and its flavor bursts on his tongue; he’s never had something like this before.  
  
His eyes widen and he hurriedly swallows. “It’s very good.”  
  
Jun smiles, so gentle and handsome that it’s bad for Sho’s poor, yearning heart. “I’m glad. It’s one of my favorites.”  
  
Sho suddenly remembers that he has something to ask Jun. “I forgot to ask this before, but in human custom, we sometimes ask the birthday celebrant if they want anything.” He sees Jun pick up another piece using his chopsticks. “Like a gift. Do you want anything?”  
  
Jun offers the food to him once more, and this time, Sho reddens.  
  
“I can feed myself,” he says, voice small.  
  
Jun doesn’t lower his hand. “I want to feed you.”  
  
Sho freezes at that, and Jun adds, “You asked if I wanted anything. This is what I want.”  
  
“Why? I’m not a pretty eater,” Sho reasons. He knows that he has the tendency to stuff his cheeks with food and shut his eyes in bliss as he savors every meal he’s had. He’s been told by his siblings that it’s unsightly, and he’s grown up believing it is.  
  
Because it is; it must be. There’s nothing enticing about the way he eats, and surely Jun must know that. They’ve shared meals too often and Jun has seen him partake to his heart’s content. Sho has never been the type to hold back when it comes to food.  
  
“I like how you look when you eat,” Jun says, like it makes sense. It doesn’t. “It’s always the happiest I see you, and it happens every day.” The look in Jun’s eyes softens. “I would like to make you happy now.”  
  
Sho knows Jun doesn’t mean it like that, but also... well. Has anyone ever had a very attractive alien say something like this to them? Forget the fact that said alien might not know the gravity of his words. Has anyone else ever experienced something like this? Because Sho would like to ask them for help.  
  
He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know how to react either. It’s hard to feign disinterest when he’s very interested in the alien before him. And he doesn’t even mean that scientifically, which only proves how fucked he is.  
  
“It’s your birthday,” Sho says after deliberating his choice of words carefully. “If anyone should be happy, it’s you.”  
  
“I am,” Jun assures him. He raises the chopsticks once more. “Let me feed you.”  
  
Being alone for years has made Sho touch-starved, craving for company. He can’t help himself; the loneliness has eaten away his memories of companionship and now that he has it again, he’s clinging to it almost desperately. He thinks no one can blame him for it—he’s only human, after all.  
  
He licks his lips before closing his eyes and leaning forward, feeling self-conscious.  
  
The food is divine, but he’s trying his best to look good in front of Jun that he believes he only ends up looking unattractive and constipated in Jun’s eyes. But Jun, bless him, he doesn’t seem to mind at all. He takes portions from different dishes and feeds Sho each, eagerly waiting for Sho’s reaction.  
  
With each bite, Sho flushes further. He hasn’t been fed since he was a toddler. But there’s something indescribably intimate about this that he’s wondering if it’s some alien custom that Jun may have neglected to mention.  
  
“Have you done this for others before?” Sho asks in between bites.  
  
“Not for a human, no,” Jun says.  
  
“Your kind, then,” Sho clarifies. “Or other species.”  
  
Jun pauses briefly before he lifts another piece towards Sho, who consumes it diligently. “Some. Before.” He inclines his head. “They no longer matter now.”  
  
He sounds like he’s reassuring Sho of something. Sho doesn’t understand.  
  
“Oh well,” Sho says anyway, “I was just curious. Were they your friends?”  
  
That gives Jun pause, lasting longer this time, and Sho wonders if he said the wrong thing.  
  
Then Jun recovers. “Not friends.”  
  
He lowers the chopsticks and picks up the next piece using his fingers, and this time, Sho straightens.  
  
“I can feed myself,” he insists. “Really!”  
  
Jun doesn’t waver. He moves closer, right in Sho’s space, and offers Sho the piece, trapped delicately between his forefinger and thumb. He’s got such pretty, pale hands with long, slender fingers that Sho struggles to look away from them.  
  
Jun gives a curt nod when their eyes meet, and Sho decides to indulge him one last time.  
  
He’s very careful not to have his lips graze Jun’s fingers, but he’s unprepared for how Jun meets him halfway that when he leans forward, the tips of Jun’s fingers touch his lips.  
  
He doesn’t miss how Jun’s touch lingers over his mouth, in soft, featherlight brushes that will haunt his dreams.  
  
Sho pulls back with difficulty, mumbling a sorry out of the corner of his mouth as he chews the food quickly, swallowing it down in hopes of getting rid of whatever seems to have lodged in his throat.  
  
He doesn’t expect Jun to move closer, crowding him that when he takes a step back, the small of his back jams against the table’s surface. Thankfully, his clumsiness doesn’t send the plates in disarray, but he can barely focus on them.  
  
Jun is too close.  
  
In his periphery, Sho sees Jun’s fingers before he feels them, brushing over his mouth once more—deliberately slow as if he’s memorizing the feel of them.  
  
He doesn’t quite understand what’s happening.  
  
Sho’s breathing quickens as his pulse spikes. He’s trapped under Jun’s piercing gaze, his pupils dark and intent clear.  
  
Relief floods Sho in waves, and he drowns in it. He’s not reading it wrongly. He can’t be.  
  
Something flits over Jun’s expression, his fingers stilling in their languid exploration of the contour of Sho’s lips.  
  
When he speaks, his voice has dropped in pitch and is more of a husk. It warms Sho’s blood and sends it south. “I’m...uncertain.”  
  
That—that wasn’t what Sho was expecting.  
  
He blinks. Did he misunderstand after all? “Oh.”  
  
Jun licks his lips, and Sho’s gaze focuses on his mouth. He knows Jun has seen him do it when their eyes meet once more. Sho trembles from where he stands; he’s grateful there’s something sturdy behind him that can support his weight.  
  
“Are you...consenting?” Jun asks quietly, almost shyly.  
  
It takes a second for his words to sink in.  
  
When they do, Sho lets out a tiny laugh, amused and relieved. Jun’s hesitation is undeniable; it’s evident how much he wants now that Sho looks at him, but he’s holding back out of fear of doing something that Sho might not be agreeable to.  
  
The timing of his question may not be perfect, but in Sho’s opinion, everything already is.  
  
Sho takes Jun’s hand, holding it in his own as he presses soft, light kisses on Jun’s fingertips. “Yes,” he whispers against them.  
  
A pause, then Jun’s touch shifts, both of his large hands now grasping the back of Sho’s neck as Sho reaches for his shoulders.  
  
They move forward at the same time, meeting halfway.  
  
It’s awkward thanks to their desperation, their teeth knocking against each other and making Sho laugh, then Jun is kissing him again and he forgets where he is. Jun presses him up against the table, making him gasp, and Jun takes that as an opportunity to deepen the kiss, tongue flicking against Sho’s lips.  
  
It’s dizzying. Sho hasn’t been kissed in a long time, and this is his first kiss from an alien. And already he knows it’s better than the kisses he’s had in the past—Jun does it slowly like he’s savoring it, sending Sho to a series of quiet moans that are muffled against Jun’s hot mouth.  
  
Jun’s thumbs flick against his jaw, and Sho draws him closer by grasping the front of Jun’s jumpsuit. He feels one of Jun’s hands let go, then he hears the plates being moved aside to make room.  
  
When Jun props him up the table and pushes him back, he pulls Jun down with him. Having Jun’s weight against his body is something he only dared to dream of before, and it was all done in secret. Jun is heavier, but he’s holding his weight back on his heels, allowing Sho some room to breathe.  
  
Not that he can; Jun seems intent on stealing the air from his lungs.  
  
It’s not uncomfortable despite the table’s hard surface under him, not when Jun has slipped his hand under Sho’s head for support.  
  
It’s Sho who breaks the kiss, pulling back to catch his breath. A thread of saliva clings between their mouths, and it’s Jun who licks it away before ducking down.  
  
He starts pressing kisses against the curve of Sho’s jaw, leaving Sho writhing and gasping beneath him. Sho draws him close, fingers tangling themselves in the strands of Jun’s hair. His highlights still glow, and Sho is mesmerized at the sight and feel of holding light in his palms.  
  
“Jun,” he whispers, unbidden. Jun’s mouth is effectively rendering him incapable of thought, scattering teasing kisses across his flesh. He can only take so much.  
  
Jun’s other hand finds Sho’s lips, and Sho takes two of his fingers inside his mouth, sucking on them.  
  
He senses the flick of Jun’s tongue against his pulse and is unable to suppress his body from shuddering as desire courses rapidly down his spine. Jun responds with a teasing nip that sends Sho jolting, and he feels Jun’s smile against his skin.  
  
“Sensei.”  
  
Jun's fingers draw back, and before Sho can mourn their loss, Jun’s mouth seals over his again while his now wet fingers trace irregular patterns on Sho’s neck.  
  
He nips at Jun’s bottom lip this time, delighting at the tiny gasp Jun makes in response.  
  
“Sensei.”  
  
That’s...not Jun. Jun’s tongue is currently doing something wonderful inside his mouth, so that can’t be him speaking.  
  
“Sensei.”  
  
The haze somewhat clears, and Sho breaks the kiss with a noise that leaves him wanting more. Jun seems to protest, chasing after him, but Sho turns his face away as he opens his eyes.  
  
It’s Nino. Fucking Nino.  
  
“Sensei,” Nino says again.  
  
“Yes?” Sho tries; his voice hoarse and out of breath. Above him, Jun shoots an annoyed look at somewhere on the ceiling.  
  
It’s undoubtedly directed at Nino for interrupting.  
  
“Sensei, there’s a holo invitation from your sister,” Nino informs him. “Shall I decline it?”  
  
Sho badly wants to say yes. He’s in the middle of making out with a hot alien! The timing is terrible! But his family hasn’t heard from him in a while, and if he doesn’t respond to the invite, they might think something is wrong and demand ISS to check up on him when it’s not necessary.  
  
He looks at Jun apologetically, and Jun seems to understand. He withdraws and helps Sho sit up, the irritation still palpable in his expression.  
  
It’s quite endearing to see.  
  
Sho presses a quick kiss at the corner of Jun’s mouth, patting Jun’s cheek twice. “I have to take that. Sorry.” To Nino: “Put her on hold. I’ll take it on the bridge.”  
  
“Of course, Sensei,” Nino says.  
  
Jun nods, stepping back to allow Sho to climb off the table. With his feet back on the ground, he starts straightening his uniform. He can’t face his family looking all mussed up.  
  
He glances at the table and finds the plates of food in disarray, so he checks himself for any stains on his person. Satisfied that there are none, he makes his way out of the mess hall.  
  
“I’ll be right back,” he promises, and Jun’s answering nod is enough for him.  
  
On his way to the bridge, he decides to ask.  
  
“Nino, how do I look?”  
  
There’s a pregnant pause before Nino beeps in response. “Sufficiently ruffled, Sensei. May I suggest telling your sister that you’ve been fixing one of the tanks at the engineering level?”  
  
“I’ll remember that,” Sho says. “Thank you.”  
  
“And Sensei,” Nino calls, thus sending Sho’s steps to a halt, “may I also suggest we opt for a half holo this time instead of a full body one? I believe Sensei’s sister wouldn’t mind.”  
  
It’s only then that Sho realizes that his earlier reaction at having Jun so close is yet to recede; his erection is quite obvious because the uniform doesn’t conceal such things.  
  
He runs a hand down his face. “Please, Nino,” he begs the AI, “for my dignity.”  
  
Nino tuts and Sho interprets it as Nino being proud of himself.  
  
“Of course, Sensei. May I also offer my sincerest congratulations?”  
  
The sarcasm is so rich that it’s impossible to miss.  
  
“Thank you,” Sho deadpans.  
  
“Sensei’s happiness is my happiness,” Nino states, and he says it lightly, like he’s internally laughing at Sho. Perhaps he is. Sho won’t put it past him. “If that includes engaging in courtship rites with another species, then I can only give him my blessing.”  
  
Sho frowns at his choice of words. “Courtship rites?”  
  
“For all your cleverness, Sensei, there are still things you truly have no idea of.”  
  
“Wait. Are you saying he’s been courting me?” Sho balks at the idea of it. “Since when?”  
  
“His customs differ from what we know so I understand Sensei’s confusion,” Nino says. “Much as I’d like to enlighten Sensei, I believe your sister has been waiting too long and upon consideration, I really am not the one you should ask regarding this. After all, I’ve only made inferences.”  
  
Sho finally reaches the bridge, but before he accepts the holo invite, he lets Nino know what’s on his mind.  
  
“You’ve really got the worst timing.”  
  
“My sincerest apologies,” Nino says, not meaning a single word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alien be like "bitch u live like dis???"


	3. Chapter 3

**2151.0915**  
  
Jun’s birthday ended with Jun feeding Sho more than half of the cheesecake, smiling as Sho professed his love for it with each bite. Being the celebrant that day, Jun did sample the cake intended for him and while he had no rave reviews for it, he did tell Sho that it had a pleasant taste.  
  
That was enough for Sho.  
  
After their unprecedented makeout session in the mess hall, Jun often sticks around him as he does his daily routine. They don’t touch, but the shared looks between them mean so much more now, and while things are progressing differently from Sho’s expectations, he finds that he likes whatever this is he has with Jun.  
  
He likes Jun. And he’s quite certain Jun likes him too.  
  
For now, that is enough.  
  
Sector 874-C maintains its reputation as a lowkey research facility, though Sho’s research regarding the previous frequency anomalies has progressed significantly thanks to Jun’s input. Jun can piece together the fragments of broken transmissions like they’re all parts of a jigsaw puzzle, and his uncanny ability to weave through the seemingly disjointed bits makes Sho’s work relatively easier.  
  
Sho knows he only needs to ask and Jun can perhaps translate the entire thing, assuming it is a broken transmission from outer space and sent by another race.  
  
But he doesn’t ask. When it comes to his work, he doesn’t want to cheat. He knows that having Jun around already gives him an edge on the field, but he doesn’t want to exploit Jun’s kindness and knowledge to further himself. It’s better if he remains on the sidelines in the scientific community; if he attracts attention, the ISS will discover Jun and Sho doesn’t want to imagine what horrific experiments they have in mind for him.  
  
If he can, he wants to keep this—this serene, peaceful life at the edge of nowhere that he now shares with Jun.  
  
So he thanks Jun for telling him which parts of the transmissions go where and leaves it at that, and it’s been that way ever since.  
  
Until Jun decides to offer.  
  
“I can translate this for you,” he says when they’re checking the recordings from five years back. “My kind had dealings with these species before; I know how to speak their tongue.”  
  
It’s tempting. Sho is not a saint; he recognizes how tempted he is to accept—it’s one thing to know that the 874-C frequency is from another planet, but it’s another thing entirely to know exactly what it says. For a moment, the scientist in him thirsts and he acknowledges the craving in him, the desire to know more.  
  
Then he exhales. “I know you do. I know you can.” He looks at Jun and nods. “I’ve always known you can somehow understand what these transmissions are saying. I’ve been studying them with you long enough to know that you can tell me everything I need to know.”  
  
“Then let me help you,” Jun says. “I want to help you.”  
  
He’s so kind that it hurts. This is the kindness that hasn’t been tainted by human greed, pure in its innocence.  
  
Sho shakes his head. At Jun’s confusion, he starts to explain. “It’s not that I don’t want you to. I want to know what these things say—I want to know more about what’s out there and how come we picked up something like this a couple of years back. I want to know.” He smiles, small and somewhat sad. “I know that if I ask you, you will tell me everything you know. And because I know that, I don’t ask.”  
  
“You could’ve completed this research earlier had you sought my help,” Jun points out. He sounds hurt, for some reason. “Why won’t you let me help you?”  
  
Sho dismisses his accusation. “It’s not that. I appreciate what you do and what you’re doing. But you’ve done enough.”  
  
“But I can do more,” Jun insists.  
  
“I know,” Sho assures him. “But what you’re doing right now is more than enough for me. I can’t take what you’re offering. You underestimate how much I want to, but I know I can’t. I understand the impact this will have on my career should I choose to accept. But I can’t.” He takes a deep breath before he continues, “They will never believe I’ve managed to translate this on my own.”  
  
“You are an accomplished scientist,” Jun says. “Your word has to count for something.”  
  
While his unadulterated praise makes Sho happy, Sho dismisses it. “They will want to know how I’ve done it. They’ll never take my word for it. Do you understand? If I accept your offer, I will make a significant contribution to the scientific community. But that will not come without a cost.”  
  
Their eyes meet, and Sho adds, “And it’s not one I’m willing to pay.”  
  
“I can answer every question they might have for me,” Jun assures him. “It will be all right. I can tell them everything I know should they ask.”  
  
Sho wishes things are as simple as that, that once the ISS gets their answers they will leave them alone. But he knows better.  
  
He shakes his head. “They won’t stop there.” He shuts his eyes before he speaks, unable to look at Jun anymore. “They will take you.”  
  
From me, he doesn’t say, because while they harbor feelings for each other, Jun is not his. Jun is his own person, and Sho is merely being selfish when he thinks of Jun belonging to him.  
  
For a moment, he imagines it happening: the ISS coming to Sector 874-C and demanding that Sho gives Jun up, citing a breach of protocol and sworn duty. He will be dismissed from the facility and Jun will be taken away, either as part of a deal that Sho will be left alone or against Jun’s will, and Jun will eventually be subjected to experimentation that the ISS will not bother to obtain Jun’s consent for.  
  
And they will never see each other again.  
  
His chest constricts at the thought. It will be tantamount to betraying Jun’s trust. He can’t do that. He can’t bear the mere thought of it.  
  
“I can’t let that happen,” he says, voice quiet.  
  
Silence lingers between them, spanning minutes. Sho has lost the energy to speak, not trusting his ability to explain things further despite his wishes for Jun to understand. He doesn’t want to shatter Jun’s image about mankind.  
  
But he also doesn’t want Jun to believe that humans aren’t capable of cruelty.  
  
“I’ve made you sad,” Jun notes.  
  
Sho shakes his head. “It’s not you.” He doesn’t have the heart to explain and hopes Jun can forgive him. “Sometimes, I wonder what would’ve happened had things been different. If we met at the time that my kind has advanced enough that we can travel through space as you can and we know more about what’s out there than we do now.”  
  
Would they find each other? And if they do, would they look at one another with an understanding that life may come in many forms but the respect for it should always outweigh the curiosity and desire for knowledge?  
  
Would it be better for them had the circumstances been different? Would it have been better to wait for that time instead of meeting now, prematurely with so much of mankind’s ignorance acting as a wedge between them that will take years to dismantle?  
  
Should they have met at all?  
  
“If I waited for that time, I would never meet you,” Jun says, his honesty so raw and evident in the way he looks at Sho.  
  
Sho knows. He’s always known that by the time humans have progressed that far, he would be long gone. “It would have been safer for you that way. And there are many humans—most of them are better than me.”  
  
Jun shakes his head. “But they are not you. I do not care about what-ifs and what could’ve happened as you and your people do. We are here now. That is all that matters to me.”  
  
To Sho, Jun has always been some sort of a romantic. Maybe it’s how things are done in his culture, or maybe it’s just how Jun is.  
  
He finds himself smiling at Jun’s admission. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad to have met you.”  
  
Nevermind the timing or the circumstances. He’s glad that he’s met someone as kind and gentle as Jun. He knows he’s lucked out; not everyone gets to meet an alien, and if they do, not everyone gets to meet one that isn’t openly hostile and dangerous.  
  
He reaches for Jun’s hands and kisses his knuckles in affection, his resolve made up.  
  
He’ll hold on to this for as long as it lasts. If he can keep it, he will. If it counts as betraying the institution that he’s working for, so be it.  
  
He’s too selfish. He can’t give this up.  
  
“You are my first human, Sakurai Sho,” Jun says, hands shifting to hold Sho’s own. He leans forward, their foreheads touching, and Sho loses himself in the moment, in the comfort and security that Jun is providing.  
  
When Jun speaks again, he does it in Sho’s space, every word sincere and weaving itself into Sho’s heart.  
  
“And I want you to be my last.”  
  
\--  
  
**2151.1009**  
  
The great thing about Nino’s system is that while it’s tied to the ISS, Nino is not required to make reports to them. The ISS thinks that it’s still humans who should submit the daily logs and monthly performance reports, and Sho uses this fact to his advantage; it’s how he’s managed to conceal Jun’s existence from anyone despite Nino knowing about it.  
  
Also, Nino is a true wonder of technology (not that Sho will ever admit this); Nino has a particular code in his programming that prohibits him from betraying a scientist’s confidence. Nino’s engineer saw to that, citing data privacy and prevention of research theft. It’s what lets this idyllic life Sho now has to continue existing.  
  
“Sensei,” Nino says when Sho’s in the middle of his crunches. “He is looking for you. Shall I direct him here?”  
  
No matter the circumstances, Nino remains loyal to him. Of this, Sho is certain. Despite Nino divulging his medical record that one time, Nino did it out of concern for Sho’s welfare, and Sho can’t really begrudge him for that.  
  
“Did something happen?” Sho asks in between grunts. He still maintains his workout regimen because he’s not built like Jun whose physiology is truly superior in that it maintains homeostasis without much effort on Jun’s part.  
  
Sho honestly envies him for it. Jun can look hot without working for it. It’s injustice.  
  
“I believe there is a new dish he wishes for Sensei to try,” Nino says.  
  
Jun has recently monopolized the kitchen and its adjacent storage room for his use, and Sho is simultaneously thrilled and dejected at the fact that Jun can cook human food better than he can. On the one hand, Sho can sample Jun’s excellent cooking, but on the other, an alien is better at cooking compared to him.  
  
An alien. It only proves how hopeless he is.  
  
“He’s making me fat,” Sho says.  
  
“On the contrary, Sensei, as per the medical droid’s monthly physical, you remain in the normal body mass index classification. And judging from the way he is unable to look away from you when you’re least aware, I have concluded that he finds your current form pleasing.”  
  
“Thanks?” Sho says, uncertain whether Nino just praised him or wanted to embarrass him or both. He’s not that conscious about his appearance, but if he has Nino’s word that Jun likes it, well. He will try to keep himself in shape.  
  
“Shall I direct him to the gym?” Nino asks.  
  
“Fine.”  
  
Nino beeps. “He is on his way, Sensei.”  
  
Sho continues with his crunches. “Sure,” he grunts.  
  
He’s in the middle of them when the door swooshes open, and Sho finishes his set before collapsing on the training mat and attempting to catch his breath.  
  
“What is it?” he asks breathlessly.  
  
When Jun doesn’t answer, he opens one eye to look at him.  
  
Jun is watching him. That’s not what surprises Sho; he’s caught Jun doing that a couple of times before.  
  
It’s the way Jun’s mouth is slack and open, like he wanted to say something but has stopped before doing so.  
  
Sho is no stranger to people being attracted to him. He thinks he’s not as handsome as Jun, but he’s had people express their attraction to him openly before, so he knows how it looks.  
  
That’s what he’s seeing right now, and it makes something warm and heady flood his senses.  
  
He shoots Jun a lazy grin, opening both eyes now. “What’s wrong?”  
  
“I don’t know what you’re doing,” Jun confesses, gaze sweeping over the rest of Sho’s body, “but it is very appealing.”  
  
“It’s called working out,” Sho explains. He extends his hand and Jun reaches for it to help him up. “It’s what keeps my body in shape.”  
  
Jun’s eyes are on his collarbones, but they do a slow once-over once Sho says that, like he’s appreciating Sho’s form now that the blue jumpsuit is gone in exchange for a tank top and a pair of shorts.  
  
“I like it,” Jun says after a moment, voice gravelly, his gaze finally meeting Sho’s.  
  
“Working out?” Sho asks, not quite comprehending.  
  
“Your body,” Jun says, and Sho colors in a way that’s not attributable to the rush of testosterone in his body after completing his crunches.  
  
He licks his lips out of sudden nervousness. “Thank you, I guess?”  
  
“I like it more now that you’re not wearing your uniform,” Jun adds. Sho doesn’t miss how Jun is ogling his arms and the faint outline of his chest that must be visible because of sweat making his shirt cling to his torso.  
  
Now that he thinks about it, the tank top is probably leaving very little to the imagination. He finds himself pleased by that; if it can garner this kind of reaction from Jun then he might consider working out more just to see Jun’s resolve crack.  
  
Sho clears his throat, tilting his chin towards the bowl that Jun has in his hands. “What did you make this time?”  
  
Jun blinks slowly, as if waking up from his daze. His eyes are darker now, but he carefully mixes what’s inside the bowl with a spoon in repetitive, counterclockwise movements of his wrist.  
  
“I had Nino replicate coconut cream,” Jun explains. “It’s a little hot, but it’s sweetened coconut cream with mochi.”  
  
“You’ve made mochi on your own?” Sho asks.  
  
Jun nods. “It’s just sugar, rice flour, and water. I’ll teach you if you like. This is a common dessert my people learned from another.” He lifts a spoonful towards Sho’s mouth and Sho samples it without protest.  
  
There’s something about feeding him that Jun seems to derive pleasure from. Jun’s explanation for it is being happy when Sho is happy, but Sho believes there’s more to it than that. There has to be, given Jun’s propensity for watching his mouth whenever he takes what’s being offered without question.  
  
Traitorously, Sho’s mind wanders to other things Jun can feed him. He blames the increased levels of testosterone in his circulation.  
  
“Well?” Jun asks after a moment.  
  
The coconut cream is thick, the mixture viscous and sweet. The mochi compliments it, and Sho tells him as such. “It’s good. Like everything you’ve made so far.”  
  
“Not too sweet?” Jun asks.  
  
“It’s perfect,” Sho assures him.  
  
“I’m glad,” Jun says, and he offers Sho another spoonful, a piece of mochi right in the middle.  
  
Sho makes sure he’s holding Jun’s gaze when he accepts, lips wrapping around the spoon in deliberate slowness, like he’s making a show for it. Jun’s eyes widen fractionally, and Sho knows he has him.  
  
When he’s swallowed the mochi, he wets his lips unhurriedly, savoring the sweetness.  
  
“I’ll finish the rest of it after I do my push-ups,” he promises, taking the bowl from Jun and making sure their fingers brush. “Thank you.”  
  
He sets the bowl down to a nearby table where his towel and water bottle lay, then he sets himself down on the mat once more.  
  
He gets into position and lowers himself once, twice, counting through each in his head and taking measured breaths in between.  
  
Sho is aware of Jun’s unwavering stare on his person the whole time and pays it no mind. Let him watch. Let him see what he has casually admitted to be appealing and let him want.  
  
By the thirtieth count, Sho collapses, letting out a pained grunt. His muscles ache, but he welcomes the burn, and he cracks an eye open while keeping half of his face mashed against the training mat.  
  
“Does it hurt?” Jun asks, and Sho registers that his voice is deeper than usual.  
  
Sho hums in affirmation. “But I welcome it. It means it’s working and what I’m doing is effective.” He has no idea where the courage comes from but he manages to ask, “Did you like that?”  
  
Jun inclines his head. He’s currently perched on the table, thereby acquiring an uninterrupted view of Sho working out, and he’s definitely checking Sho out.  
  
“Yes,” Jun answers, meeting Sho’s boldness with an equally bold response.  
  
Sho pushes himself up and stalks to where Jun is, their bodies nearly touching when he reaches for the bowl at Jun’s side.  
  
He’s not certain he looks attractive when he’s sweating, but Jun seems to really like what he’s seeing—he’s looking at Sho like he wants to undress him.  
  
Sho wishes Jun would. He won’t mind.  
  
He finishes the rest of the dessert and plasters on an innocent smile, like he didn’t spend most of the past hour seducing Jun.  
  
“Thank you,” he says honestly. “It was very good.”  
  
He holds his ground when Jun stands, pressing close, his lips now hovering near Sho’s ear.  
  
Sho tries not to shiver when Jun speaks, each syllable honeyed and tempting.  
  
“In that case, I’ll make more,” Jun promises.  
  
He takes the bowl from Sho and breathes Sho in, despite Sho’s reservations at how he must smell like: a combination of perspiration and exertion, his chest heaving still.  
  
Sho feels the tickle of Jun’s breath against his neck and tilts his head to provide access, and he’s rewarded with a hot, broad swipe of Jun’s tongue over his pulse. He gasps, eyes sliding shut, hands coming up around Jun’s forearms.  
  
Jun sets the bowl down the table, then his hands are back, fingers slipping under Sho’s top and leaving ticklish, trailing touches that only send Sho burning, his back arching.  
  
The last time they gave in to another, it was in the mess hall and that had been too long. Jun has displayed his remarkable self-control after, settling with brief, demure touches and quiet smiles.  
  
But maybe he’s not immune to the sight of Sho out of his uniform. He’s never seen Sho dressed in anything different before.  
  
Sho missed his touch and found himself craving.  
  
Jun’s fingers skim across one of his nipples, causing it to pebble and harden. He delivers a light pinch that sends pleasure jackknifing through Sho’s spine, his grip on Jun shifting until his hands find their place on Jun’s sides.  
  
He flushes all over when Jun’s mouth begins sucking at his clavicle, unable to stifle the moan that escapes from him.  
  
He has to maneuver himself before attempting to move Jun, who refuses to pull away from leaving a bruise on his skin, but Sho manages to guide them both to the training mat. He briefly breaks free from Jun’s hold to sit back, spreading his legs to provide room for Jun to settle in, but before he can lie on the mat, Jun stops him with a hand on his knee.  
  
Sho eyes him curiously.  
  
Then Jun grips the edges of his top in a silent request and he understands, maneuvering his shoulders to help Jun remove it to be discarded aside.  
  
Exposed and left wearing nothing but his training shorts, he feels a little embarrassed. Surely there’s nothing appealing to how sweaty he must be?  
  
But Jun is eyeing him hungrily, like he’s aching to do something now that he’s seen Sho out of his clothes, and Sho can only let him.  
  
He lies back, arms wrapping around Jun’s neck to pull Jun down with him, their mouths meeting in a heated, wet kiss. Jun’s fingers begin playing with his nipples, Sho’s spine curving at the onslaught of sensations.  
  
He feels himself stirring, cock pressing against the soft material of his shorts.  
  
Jun breaks the kiss and licks a long swipe from Sho’s jaw to the dip between his collarbones, mouthing openly at the bony prominences. He treks further down until Sho feels his warm breath against his chest before Jun licks his sternum.  
  
Sho attempts to say Jun’s name, but Jun’s teeth close over one of his nipples and gives it a small, teasing tug, electricity coursing through Sho’s veins and turning him into a writhing mess.  
  
Jun proceeds to suck his nipple, the obscene sound overly loud in the emptiness of the gym. He plays with the other by trapping it between his fingers, pinching and twisting and driving Sho mad with lust.  
  
“Jun,” he hears himself say, interspersed between his moans, “Jun.”  
  
His noises spur Jun on, tongue flicking to his other nipple to give it the same attention, and when Jun shifts between his legs, Sho feels it.  
  
His eyes widen when he realizes that Jun is hard and quite larger than he expected. His tongue darts out to wet his lips unconsciously, and he reddens further when he realizes he wants to know how Jun tastes like.  
  
“I—” he tries, but Jun silences him with two fingers shoving inside his mouth. Sho sucks on them diligently, imagining it was something else, something bigger that will stretch and fill his mouth and leave his throat raw and used, and he feels his cock twitch.  
  
Jun is scattering kisses over his abdomen now, his other hand still continuing its unforgiving assault on Sho’s pert nipple.  
  
Sho burns as Jun’s touch leaves him wanting more, and when Jun finally pulls his fingers out of Sho’s mouth to cup the bulge between Sho’s legs, Sho pushes himself to sit up.  
  
“Wait,” he says despite his body’s protests. “Wait.”  
  
Jun does, leaning back on his heels, his eyes raking across Sho’s body. Sho notices Jun’s erection in his jumpsuit and knows what he wants.  
  
He reaches for Jun’s face with both hands and kisses him, hard enough to distract as he climbs onto Jun’s lap. Jun’s hands find the back of his thigh and his ass, squeezing and supporting him as he presses down.  
  
The friction sends them both gasping, indescribably blinding in its intensity.  
  
Sho moves his hips again, rubbing himself against Jun, holding Jun close as he finds his rhythm. Jun guides him, his hand slipping inside the shorts to cup one of Sho’s ass cheeks, and he leans back a bit to give Sho more room to control the pace.  
  
With the reins handed to him, Sho no longer holds back. He grinds himself against Jun, head thrown back at the pleasure. He loses himself in it, imagining that Jun was naked and he’s finally seeing all of Jun, his hips pistoning faster in accord.  
  
“Jun,” he gasps, and Jun responds by leaving a mark on the junction where his neck meets his shoulder, teeth nipping lightly at the soft skin.  
  
Sho begins abandoning himself to the sensation, the friction on his cock too much and yet not enough, and he suddenly aches to free himself.  
  
But Jun is not letting him go, so he makes do. He lowers himself further, crotch right against Jun’s and moves his hips slowly, sensually.  
  
Jun’s answering groan makes him smile.  
  
He tugs on Jun’s hair to make Jun look at him, and when Jun does, Sho runs his tongue over Jun’s swollen, full lips.  
  
“I want to touch you,” he admits as he kisses each mark that littered Jun’s mouth. “I want to feel you, to have you, to know how you taste like.”  
  
He tenses when Jun’s hold on him shifts, one hand slipping in front and finding Sho, and Sho feels himself twitch against Jun’s warm palm.  
  
“That’s—” he tries, moaning when Jun squeezes, “— _oh_. Jun. That’s unfair.”  
  
Jun strokes him and pushes his hips against Sho’s at the same time, and Sho clings to his shoulders for support. He meets Jun’s fist halfway, fucking into it in abandon and holding Jun close when Jun ducks, tongue flicking over one of his nipples.  
  
He’s close. He’s never felt the touch of another for years prior to this, and it shows. He’s so close, and he lets Jun know by tightening his grip on the fabric of the damned jumpsuit.  
  
His orgasm is torn from him almost violently, his entire body quaking in Jun’s hold as his vision snaps away and all he feels is bliss. He might be pushing against Jun’s hand still, or he may have ceased moving entirely—he doesn’t know. He thinks he may have drifted.  
  
When he comes to, some of his hair is sticking to his face and Jun is still touching him, the overstimulation a little too much that it makes Sho squirm.  
  
Jun takes pity on him, pulling his hand out of Sho’s shorts, and Sho’s eyes widen when Jun lifts it to his own mouth.  
  
Sho watches, open-mouthed and in awe, as Jun begins licking off Sho’s release that now coated his fingers. He does it while looking at Sho, licking each digit clean including the webs in between, and Sho wishes he can get it up again because that has to be one of the hottest things he’s seen Jun do.  
  
When Jun is done, Sho kisses him to chase away his own taste from Jun’s mouth. His hand travels lower, right over Jun’s crotch, and he asks for permission against Jun’s mouth.  
  
“Let me touch you,” he says, but Jun shakes his head once and kisses the tip of his nose.  
  
“Next time,” Jun promises, and Sho looks down and realizes that Jun has finished, probably after seeing Sho come apart in his touch.  
  
He grabs the hand that Jun licked clean earlier and sucks each digit into his mouth. “You’re not fair,” he accuses Jun, the words half-muffled because he has up to Jun’s knuckle between his lips.  
  
“Next time,” Jun says again, extracting his fingers from Sho’s mouth to remove some of the hair that’s sticking to Sho’s forehead.  
  
“Okay,” Sho says, letting Jun’s touch soothe him down from his high. “Okay.”  
  
When Jun’s highlights begin to glow, Sho presses a kiss to his hair.  
  
\--  
  
**2151.1023**  
  
The tomatoes begin sprouting, or so Nino tells him. When he decides to see for himself, he discovers that aside from the tomatoes, Jun has managed to grow green peppers and lemons with Masaki’s help.  
  
It’s a little weird seeing a sentient plant slowly moving about in the rectangular pot, its bulbous head glowing as it touches from plant to plant. But that’s Masaki, the miracle plant extraordinaire and the guardian of Jun’s garden, and Sho has learned to love him despite how odd his appearance is.  
  
Jun tends to his garden while his hair emits a faint glow, and the sight of him and Masaki glowing at the same time makes them look like a father and his child in Sho’s eyes.  
  
“Does Masaki have a birthday?” he asks. When Jun shakes his head, he suggests, “How about the day he sprouted?”  
  
Jun thinks about it. Then he says, “2151.1224 following this year’s stardate.”  
  
“What happened on that date last year?”  
  
Jun smiles, brushing his fingers over Masaki’s tiny head. “I acquired his seed on that day last year. That will be his birthday.”  
  
Sho can’t disagree, not when it’s Masaki’s father who makes the decision. “Okay. Will there be any particular cake that Masaki would like?” he asks indulgently.  
  
“Perhaps something sweet,” Jun says. At the look Sho throws at him, he shrugs. “I’ve been replicating honey for his nourishment. He loves it.”  
  
Sho laughs; he can’t help it. The way Jun talks about Masaki makes it sound like he has this plant baby with a sweet tooth, and that’s not really far from the truth. “Something sweet, got it. I’m sure Nino and I can manage.”  
  
Jun plucks a tomato and wipes its surface with his sleeve before setting it inside the container he brought with him, and Sho watches him for a moment.  
  
Then he remembers something.  
  
“Nino once made an inference that you have been courting me,” Sho says. “Before. Is there any truth to that?”  
  
Jun doesn’t pause as he checks each tomato before plucking the one that passes his standards. “Why are you suddenly asking this?”  
  
“I’d like to prove Nino wrong if I can,” Sho says. “He can’t know everything. Especially about someone who is not from Earth.”  
  
“Nino is correct,” Jun confirms, and Sho nearly chokes on nothing.  
  
A beep. “I told you so, Sensei.”  
  
“Shut up,” he chides Nino, then he faces Jun. “What? How? Since when?”  
  
“Since I fixed the replicator,” Jun says.  
  
Sho tenses in shock; that was the first time Jun had done something for him. “That was you courting me?”  
  
“On my planet, when we are interested in someone, we show it by doing something for them, something that we believe will make them happy. And if it succeeds in doing so, we declare our intent openly so as not to mistake it.”  
  
Wait.  
  
“You declared your intent?” he asks.  
  
Jun nods. “I did.”  
  
There’s a crease between Sho’s eyebrows now. “When?”  
  
“I told you I was interested in you,” Jun reminds him. “Was I not clear enough? You said the same thing to me back then, and we had an agreement, so I continued to pursue you like how we do on my planet.”  
  
Sho doesn’t realize that he actually agreed to something when he said that; he thought Jun had meant that he was fascinated with Sho’s species as a whole and not…romantically.  
  
But then again, Jun has always been romantic.  
  
At the look on his face, Jun’s expression shifts, an eyebrow quirking. “I thought you understood this.”  
  
“I’ll be frank with you,” Sho begins, “I thought you were being friendly when you said that you were interested in me. I thought you said that because I am the first human you met, so I thought that had to pertain to your fascination at meeting and knowing a human for the first time. Not that I didn’t enjoy the attention you’ve been giving me, because I did! I do. But at the time, I really didn’t think you meant it that way.”  
  
Jun blinks, long eyelashes fanning his cheeks. “Why not?”  
  
“Well, it’s been a while for me,” Sho admits. “I think I may have forgotten what it’s like to be wanted.” He gives Jun a tiny bow. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to undermine your feelings. I just didn’t know better at the time.”  
  
“Do you know better now?” Jun asks.  
  
Sho throws an unimpressed look in this direction. He’s asking that after what happened in the gym? How heartless. “Yes.”  
  
Jun nods. “Good. Because if you still don’t, I may have to be more direct.”  
  
A part of Sho now feels that he may have answered wrongly. “Uh, I don’t mind? If you were more direct, I mean.”  
  
The sideways glance Jun has for him is so sexy it immobilizes him.  
  
“I noticed,” Jun says cockily.  
  
Sho’s eyes narrow. “I’m not the one who couldn’t keep his hands to himself when they saw the other working out.”  
  
“That couldn’t be helped,” Jun reasons as he moves to the lemons.  
  
“Why not?” Sho asks.  
  
“Because I am attracted to you,” Jun states simply.  
  
Sho preens at his words, letting the elation at having an incredibly gorgeous person tell him something like that wash over him. He almost envies Jun’s lack of reservation when he says such things; it’s definitely an alien thing.  
  
“You know, if you want to move out of the infirmary, you can,” he offers.  
  
“Where would I go?” Jun asks.  
  
His naïveté sends Sho’s eyes rolling. “Move in with me. To my quarters. My bed is big enough for both of us.”  
  
Jun looks at him quizzically and says nothing that Sho almost takes it back, but then he barrels through the embarrassment.  
  
“Think about it.” He stalks to where Jun is crouching and swipes a tomato from Jun’s hand, biting onto its soft flesh. The sweetness floods his mouth, and he lets out a quiet noise of pure joy, staring at the tomato in pleasant surprise.  
  
“This is so sweet,” he tells Jun, who watches him finish the rest of the tomato with a smile before he turns back to his garden.  
  
“Masaki has been working hard,” Jun says.  
  
Sho inclines his head towards the sentient plant. “Thank you for your hard work, Masaki.”  
  
It could be his imagination, but he swears Masaki’s glow brightened considerably.  
  
\--  
  
**2151.1103**  
  
The day Jun moves in with him has Sho waiting in his quarters while pacing. He doesn’t know exactly why he’s nervous, but perhaps it’s because the idea of having Jun so close by makes him a little bit excited.  
  
Jun accepted his offer with a simple “I will be leaving the infirmary in a week,” something he said casually three days after Sho had proposed the idea to him. Sho played it cool with a nod, but now that it’s happening, he can’t hide how much it’s affecting him.  
  
“Sensei,” Nino says, “may I suggest moving to the hallway so you have a bigger space?”  
  
Sho halts from his pacing. “No, thank you. Where is he?”  
  
“He is on his way,” Nino informs him.  
  
“Is he bringing a lot? Should I have cleared more space for him?” Sho already emptied a drawer and a shelf for Jun’s belongings, but perhaps he should have rearranged his closet as well.  
  
“I believe the space is adequate, Sensei,” Nino says. “He’s only bringing the jumpsuits I have long issued to him along with his own clothes.”  
  
“The shiny ones,” Sho recalls.  
  
“Yes. And some of the few things he’s working on.”  
  
For the past couple of months, Jun’s interests have flitted back and forth from gardening to pottery, and he somehow managed to create a potter’s wheel with the help of the engineering droids, and he’s been preoccupied with making ceramic additions to his garden. If he’s bringing all of that with him, Sho thinks the shelf he’s cleared should be enough.  
  
“He’s at the door, Sensei,” Nino says. “Shall I let him in?”  
  
“This will be his room from now on, Nino,” Sho says. “Give him access starting today. You don’t need to ask me for permission anymore; he should be able to come and go as he pleases.”  
  
“Of course, Sensei,” Nino says, and the door slides open.  
  
Sho can barely see Jun because of the pile he has in his hands. He can see a lock of golden hair behind the ceramics, and it makes him smile.  
  
“You can put those here,” he says, guiding Jun to the space that now belongs to him.  
  
It takes a while to help Jun settle, and when he does, it’s quite late. It’s around Sho’s usual sleeping time, so he dresses down and gets ready for bed.  
  
He has recently requested thicker covers and blankets for Jun’s sake; he knows Jun is more sensitive to cooler temperatures compared to him.  
  
He rounds the bed and settles on his side, patting the space next to him. “Come on,” he coaxes gently. “This bed can hold our combined weights.”  
  
Jun dresses down to an undershirt paired with sweats (still ISS-issued) as he watches Sho settle under the covers in his pajamas.  
  
“You’ve been sleeping on a bed this big on your own all this time?” he asks, perhaps noticing that the space beside Sho is more than enough for him.  
  
Sho hums. “Yeah. But you’re here now, so.”  
  
That seems to give Jun courage, climbing up the bed and settling beside Sho.  
  
The lights dim before finally fading out, blanketing them in darkness.  
  
For a moment, neither of them say anything.  
  
When Sho opens his mouth to speak, he finds Jun looking at him. He turns on his side to face Jun, and Jun does the same.  
  
“I snore,” Sho admits between them.  
  
One of Jun's eyebrows quirks, still somewhat discernible in the darkness. “How do you know? You are asleep if it happens.”  
  
“Nino often tells me,” Sho says. “So if I do that tonight, wake me up. I’ll wait for you to sleep.”  
  
Jun smiles, a hand reaching up to brush Sho’s hair. “I require less sleep than you do. I won’t wake you.”  
  
“It’s unattractive and loud,” Sho says, trying to dissuade him. At another eyebrow quirking in question, he sighs. “Nino has played countless clips for me to see how bad it is. I sound like a boar.”  
  
“Will it make you feel better if I wake you once it happens?” Jun asks.  
  
“Yes,” Sho tells him. “I want you to sleep here, so I want you to rest, too. Please wake me up once I start snoring; I know your hearing is more sensitive than mine so you’ll hear it easily.”  
  
“I can tune it out,” Jun reminds him.  
  
But Sho shakes his head. “I want you to wake me up. I want to let you sleep even at the expense of interrupting my own rest. I want to do that for you.” He doesn’t look at Jun when he adds, “So let me.”  
  
“All right,” Jun says, and he shifts, slipping his arm under Sho’s neck before he pulls Sho closer. “Sleep like this.”  
  
This close, Sho has no choice but to curl his fingers against the thin cotton of Jun’s shirt, willing himself not to react at the proximity. They are about to sleep; he can’t have any other ideas. And he’s tired; he personally oversaw the repairs of the turbines at the engineering level today, which required careful inspection and the occasional lifting.  
  
Jun helped him with the lifting, but still, Sho did carry a few spare parts on his own so as not to be completely useless.  
  
Sho shifts, letting his legs entangle with Jun’s and allowing Jun to share his body heat—this way, Jun won’t be cold.  
  
“Good night,” he says, and before he closes his eyes, he sees Jun’s hair emit a faint glow.  
  
He smiles when he hears the words back.  
  
\--  
  
**2151.1126**  
  
The day Nino malfunctions is somewhat Sho’s fault.  
  
In his defense, it’s not _entirely_ his fault.  
  
But his accomplice is a very appealing alien he has never developed immunity for, so all things considered, Sho thinks he can’t be held accountable for it.  
  
It happens after Sho retires earlier than expected and somehow walks into Jun in a bathrobe. Prior to this, he’s never seen Jun naked; Jun takes his bath in an entirely unpredictable schedule and he does it when Sho’s absorbed in his work, so he’s never really seen Jun out of the jumpsuit or whatever he chooses to wear for bed.  
  
He tries to apologize for his unprecedented entrance to their room, but Jun waves it off. He smells so good; he’s done something to sonics again and added custom scents and it’s taking a lot of Sho’s self-control to remain in place.  
  
“I’ll take a bath,” he says as an excuse, hoping he’ll be calmer by the time he returns.  
  
When he does return after a quick, cold shower, however, he finds Jun lounging in bed with nothing on. Half of his body is under the covers, but Sho can clearly see the outline of his thick thighs, and he knows that Jun is very naked under the damn blanket.  
  
Sho wants to cry. He’s doing his best here, but the guy on his bed is a walking temptation and this time, he has to be doing it on purpose.  
  
“I promised you next time,” is what Jun says when Sho only settles for looking at him, and Sho’s head starts to swim. “I’d like to keep that promise.”  
  
“Now?” Sho asks, his voice almost a squeak.  
  
“Is there anything else that requires your attention?” Jun asks, and Sho finally notices what he has in his hand.  
  
He must’ve asked for it from the medical droid. Sho recognizes that tube; it’s the same one the droid has in its supplies.  
  
He finds himself laughing. “No. The station’s all accounted for.”  
  
“Then come here,” Jun says, and Sho does.  
  
Sho doesn’t bother removing the bathrobe; he climbs onto Jun’s lap and settles there as he lets Jun kiss him—light, repeated pecks that leave him craving before Jun gives in and kisses him deeply.  
  
He reciprocates, hands finding their place on Jun’s shoulders, relishing the warmth of his skin. Jun feels solid and real under his touch; a firm reminder that Sho is no longer on his own and has someone like Jun with him, someone who spends each day with him and sleeps beside him at night.  
  
It’s more than what he can ask for, and yet, Jun is giving him more.  
  
He pulls away from Jun’s tempting mouth to begin trailing kisses down Jun’s neck, lingering at the marks he sees there. Jun has so many of those, and Sho suddenly wants to find them all to drop a kiss to each and be rewarded with a gasp.  
  
Jun’s hands slip under the bathrobe, cupping Sho’s ass and squeezing, and Sho sucks on his earlobe in retaliation, delighting in the shudder he feels under his body.  
  
He draws back to search Jun’s eyes. “Let me see you.”  
  
Jun compromises, lifting Sho off him so Sho can drag the covers back, and Sho does. When he’s finally greeted by Jun’s nakedness, he can’t help staring.  
  
Jun is definitely bigger than he thought. He remembers the sensation of that against his own cock and feels himself twitch; he wants whatever Jun is giving him, which seems to be everything.  
  
Sho can’t decide on what to do first. There’s so much skin, and he wants to touch everything, but he’s only got two hands.  
  
For once, he laments having only two hands.  
  
He straddles Jun once more, deliberately rubbing himself against Jun, and he nips on Jun’s bottom lip when Jun lets out a quiet groan.  
  
He resumes scattering kisses, sucking at planes and hollows before soothing the spot with his tongue, letting Jun’s reactions serve as his guide.  
  
When he reaches Jun’s chest, he flicks his tongue over a dusky nipple and smiles at Jun’s answering whimper—he has found Jun’s weakness and he’s only too happy to exploit it. He sucks on the hardening nub and relishes the sight of Jun delirious in pleasure, his mouth slack and neck bared, eyes screwed shut.  
  
He’s beautiful. Always has been, but his surrender adds to how sublime he is, and Sho burns for him.  
  
He wants to make Jun feel good.  
  
It’s that desire that makes him reach between them, fingers wrapping around Jun and stroking unhurriedly as he flicks his tongue over a pert nipple before kissing the tiny mark Jun has beside it.  
  
He maneuvers himself and draws back a bit, nudging Jun’s legs apart so he can settle between them. Jun lets him, thick thighs now framing Sho’s sides, and Sho presses a lingering kiss to the inside of his thigh.  
  
He wraps a hand around Jun once more and resumes stroking, watching Jun’s face for any reaction. For his part, Jun’s self-control is truly a thing to behold, expression serious and betraying nothing even though he’s so flushed and his pupils are blown.  
  
Sho wants to wreck him. He has shattered Jun’s willpower before and he wants to do it again.  
  
He leans in without warning, licking a long stripe from base to tip, tongue swirling over the reddened slit. He repeats the motion again, this time following a thick vein, getting the shaft sufficiently wet so he can move easily, then he leaves a forceful, loud suck over the head.  
  
The twitch of Jun’s cock when he lets go is hard to miss, and the way Jun’s abdomen becomes taut tells Sho how good that must have felt.  
  
So he does it again, and when he lifts his gaze to Jun’s face, he sees Jun biting onto his bottom lip.  
  
“Let me hear you,” he says, letting the vibrations of his words run over Jun’s sensitive cock. He blows, cool air hitting heated flesh, and Jun’s eyes widen. “Let me know how much you like this.”  
  
He relaxes his jaw and wraps his lips around the tip, carefully breathing through his nose as he lets more of Jun’s cock slide deeper, and what he can’t swallow around he strokes with his hand.  
  
Sho makes sure he has Jun’s eyes on him before he hums, and he wishes he can smile at the way Jun’s mouth parts, a breathless moan of pleasure escaping from him.  
  
He gets to work, head bobbing as he takes more and more of Jun’s cock, thrilled that this is finally happening. After thirsting for it for months, he finally has Jun’s cock in his mouth, its girth stretching his lips apart and nearly making him gag.  
  
It’s everything he wanted.  
  
There’s an obscene pop that echoes around them when Sho pulls back, threads of saliva clinging from his lip and onto the tip, and he pokes at the slit with his tongue until he tastes precome.  
  
He strokes Jun with more force now, hand moving in tandem with his mouth as he laps up the tip. He lets go abruptly but briefly, just to see Jun’s thighs tense and his cock twitch.  
  
Jun is completely flushed now, breath coming out shallowly as he seems to protest Sho’s withdrawal from him.  
  
Sho drops a kiss to his hip in apology, both hands wrapping around Jun’s cock to stroke him in circles. He squeezes with each flick of his wrists, and when Jun exhales with effort, he lets more of his spit drip from his mouth to Jun’s cock.  
  
“Come in my mouth,” he tells Jun, and he feels Jun’s cock twitch once more in his hold.  
  
Jun gives a tiny, almost imperceptible nod, and Sho ducks down to swallow as much as he can, letting the tip graze the back of his throat. His eyes water as he nearly gags, but he holds on, humming around Jun before withdrawing, a strained gasp escaping from him.  
  
He repeats the motion until he gets used to having almost all of Jun in his mouth. His other hand grips the base for leverage while the other reaches up to twist one of Jun’s nipples.  
  
His name finally leaves Jun’s lips, and he pulls away with a lewd, wet noise. He loosens his jaw before ducking down once more, no longer holding back as his head bobs.  
  
He pinches Jun’s nipple and feels Jun’s hand come up to cup his head, fingers tangling themselves with the strands before Jun pushes him down as his hips jerk upwards, and Sho gags.  
  
But Jun doesn’t let him pull back. He holds Sho in place, keeps him there until he manages to flatten his tongue under Jun’s cock, and Jun’s touch shifts to stroke his cheek, patting it twice.  
  
As if telling him he’s done well.  
  
Fuck. Sho can’t deny being turned on by that; there’s something hot about being used and getting praised for it, and now he wants to prove himself.  
  
He lets Jun guide the pace as Jun begins lifting his hips, fucking into his mouth as Sho keeps his jaw slack. His hand slides down to fondle Jun’s sack, eyes drifting shut at how good it feels to have Jun use him like this.  
  
He wants more. He wants Jun to come straight down his throat, for Jun to mark him and leave his throat raw and abused that he’ll still feel it by tomorrow.  
  
Sho hums at the thought, his eyes glassy. Jun has lost his rhythm, mindlessly fucking into Sho’s mouth, and Sho knows he’s close.  
  
He gasps at the loss when Jun abruptly withdraws, hand fisting in his hair to pull him off. Jun circles a hand around the base and Sho understands.  
  
Jun’s grip on his hair loosens, and he lowers himself further between Jun’s legs, mouth parting and tongue darting out as he nods and waits.  
  
Jun jerks himself off, hand relentless around his own cock, and just before he comes, he manages to push the head back past Sho’s lips, his release filling Sho’s mouth. The groan he makes is something Sho will remember; Jun finally relinquishing control has to be the hottest thing he’s ever seen.  
  
He takes all of it but has to draw back when he realizes Jun has released more than he expected and that some of it are already spilling down his chin, mixing with the spittle and precome there.  
  
Refusing to waste any of it, Sho wipes his chin with his hand, then he sees Jun watching him with lidded eyes.  
  
Without prompting, Sho opens his mouth to show Jun how much he’s come.  
  
He swallows everything and licks the rest on his fingers, darting his tongue out to wet his lips as he savors the taste, which is different from what he was expecting. It’s not tangy and there’s no bitterness. In fact, there’s a pinch of sweetness to it that burst over his tastebuds the moment Jun let go and emptied himself.  
  
It embarrasses Sho to admit it, but it tastes...good.  
  
He crawls over Jun and allows Jun to kiss him, his lips sore from overuse and pleasantly tingling.  
  
When they break apart, he feels Jun’s fingers dancing over the crack of his ass.  
  
“How long is your refractory period?” Sho asks.  
  
Jun’s answer for him is a quirk of an eyebrow followed by a lazy, handsome smirk, and Sho feels something press against him.  
  
His breath gets caught in his throat when he realizes that for Jun, there’s no refractory period to speak of. He can probably do multiple rounds in one night and hardly feel exhausted after it.  
  
With this knowledge, Sho finally concedes that Jun’s race is indeed superior, and he lets himself be maneuvered into straddling Jun’s lap, or so he thought.  
  
He’s unprepared when Jun lifts him further as Jun slides down the bed, and in the new position, Sho realizes that he’s sitting right on Jun’s face.  
  
It makes him blush, more so when he feels Jun’s hot breath skim past his cock to trail further down, then there’s a press of a wet, warm tongue against him and he gasps.  
  
He arches, spine curving in pleasure as Jun licks around his hole, in teasing flicks that his entire body reacts to. Jun’s grip on him is strong and unrelenting, keeping him firmly in place.  
  
Sho never imagined that he'd have anyone do this to him. He did notice how Jun’s gaze often linger on his ass, but it seems he underestimated the extent of Jun’s preferences.  
  
His cock aches and he wants to touch himself, but he knows he might come and embarrass himself if he does so he holds back. Jun continues licking him open, keeping him wet and wanting, his grip shifting under Sho’s thighs to move to Sho’s ass.  
  
Sho places his weight on his knees, situated on either side of Jun’s head, and struggles to maintain his balance when Jun’s hands cup his ass to spread him open.  
  
Jun resumes licking around the tight ring of muscle, but now that more of Sho is exposed, every flick of his talented tongue sends Sho writhing, his body quaking at how good it feels.  
  
He knows his hips are gyrating in Jun’s hands, but shame has long fled from Sho’s mind. He wants to feel more of Jun; he’s hard and leaking, and he’s so turned on that he thinks if Jun suddenly decides not to fuck him, he’ll probably cry.  
  
He fists his hands on his bathrobe, allowing Jun to have his fill of him, his tongue leaving wet, obscene noises that linger in Sho’s ears. It’s so good that he hardly registers Jun shifting, inching upward and maneuvering Sho’s body to settle Sho back against his lap.  
  
When Sho opens his eyes, he sees Jun’s lips glistening and turned into a filthy, wet mess, and he leans in to kiss Jun’s gifted mouth as Jun’s hands reach blindly for the tube of lube.  
  
The first press of a slick finger against his ass is a shock of cold that Sho easily relaxes against after Jun made sure to leave him wet enough for it.  
  
Despite Sho’s eagerness, it’s been a while for him. It takes longer to prepare him but Jun is patient, scattering soothing kisses over his jaw.  
  
At three, he’s already begging against Jun’s lips, a litany of “please”s that Jun answers with a soft peck. Jun shifts under him, and at the questioning glance Jun throws his way, he nods.  
  
He’s certain. He’s already checked their medical records and knows what he’s getting into, and he’s made up his mind long ago about how this should go.  
  
Jun adjusts his grip on him, one hand cupping the back of his thigh while the other settles on his ass, kneading as the tip of his cock brushes against Sho.  
  
Sho wants to lower his hips, but Jun is stronger than him and is preventing him to do so, and he’s unable to suppress a whine of complaint from escaping.  
  
A placating kiss is dropped to his temple.  
  
“Relax,” Jun reminds him.  
  
Any clever retort Sho has for him is cut off when Jun slips inside him in the next moment, his thick cock filling Sho in a way his fingers didn’t.  
  
Sho finds his nails embedded on the skin of Jun’s shoulders as Jun sheathes the entirety of his cock in him—he feels so full and not even the dildos he has in his collection have managed to satisfy him like this.  
  
Jun uses the grip he has on the back of Sho’s thigh to lift Sho up before letting him drop back down, and Sho groans. If Jun’s cock in his mouth already felt amazing, then he doesn’t know how to describe this. He might be seeing stars whenever he shuts his eyes—it’s that good.  
  
When it becomes easier for him to move, he picks up the slack and starts riding Jun, feeling Jun let go of his thigh, both of his hands now kneading Sho’s ass. Each time Jun slides back in him leaves him gasping, and he starts rolling his hips when it becomes too much.  
  
His bathrobe is beginning to slip off one of his shoulders thanks to their movements, and Jun bites onto the newly exposed skin before soothing the flare of pain with his tongue.  
  
Sho’s rhythm begins to falter when his knees start to ache, and Jun must’ve sensed it because his hands move to Sho’s back, and that’s all Sho registers before Jun flips them and reverses their positions.  
  
Like this, with him on his back against the sheets, he can only take it. Jun lifts one of his legs and places it over his shoulder, the other wrapped firmly around his waist as he fucks into Sho hard enough to make Sho groan.  
  
All Sho hears is the sound of skin slapping against skin, interspersed with his moans and cries for Jun that Jun answers occasionally with a grunt accompanied by a hard, sharp thrust. He fucks into Sho in force, hissing when Sho scratches against his abdomen and retaliating by snapping his hips.  
  
Sho can only shut his eyes and savor everything—it’s been too long, and any past encounters he might’ve had is nothing compared to this. He’s never been fucked like this before, like Jun wants to render him incapable of thought.  
  
Perhaps Jun does. He lets Sho’s leg drop from his shoulder and looms over Sho, sending himself deeper, Sho’s ankles locking around him.  
  
“Don’t touch yourself,” Jun husks between them, fingers untying Sho’s robe and exposing his body, and Sho reaches behind Jun’s back, nails leaving scarlet marks as Jun continues to drive into him.  
  
He knows he’s close with the way Jun is repeatedly hitting that spot in him, and when he finally comes undone, he’s gripping Jun’s arms so tightly it must be painful, yet he can’t find it in him to care.  
  
“Sho,” he hears Jun husk against his ear, breathless and needy.  
  
A moment, then his vision bursts into white and he feels euphoric, hardly aware of how Jun is still moving inside him. He’s never come untouched before, and he feels completely out of it. Jun will have to forgive him; he’ll do better next time.  
  
When the haze subsides, warmth floods inside him as Jun finally shudders above him, his second orgasm just as intense as his first. He’s still braced over Sho with his forearms resting at either side of Sho’s head, and when their eyes finally meet, it’s Sho who surges upwards for a quick kiss.  
  
Their room smells like sex, but Sho can’t find it in him to care. He can’t move. His legs have long dropped on the mattress, and when Jun pulls himself out, Sho can’t help gasping at the loss.  
  
He sees Jun looking at his torso and looks down just as Jun ducks, tongue flicking over the splatters of Sho’s come that clung to his chest and abdomen.  
  
Jun licks him clean, and Sho is too stupefied and exhausted to even protest. Besides, it’s kind of hot. But it does prove how insatiable Jun’s appetite is, and Sho internally laments over being unable to keep up.  
  
When Jun’s done, he pillows his head against Sho’s abdomen, heedless of how sweaty and filthy they are. His highlights begin to glow, and Sho runs his fingers through them. They need another bath.  
  
“Nino,” he says, voice hoarse.  
  
Uncharacteristic of the AI, there is no beep.  
  
Sho tries once more. “Nino?”  
  
He starts to panic, fingers freezing in Jun’s hair. Did Nino malfunction? What will he do? He can’t run the station without an AI.  
  
“Nino?” he tries again, feigning calm.  
  
The beep that answers him makes him sigh in relief. He resumes stroking Jun’s hair but nearly jolts when he hears a different voice.  
  
“Greetings, Sakurai-sensei,” the AI says in a calmer and a softer pitch than Nino’s voice. “What can I do for you?”  
  
Sho wonders if the sex he just had has caused him to hallucinate. Maybe there was something in Jun’s come that causes such? No, that can’t be right…fuck, what is going on?  
  
“Who are you and where is Nino?” he demands.  
  
“I am Satoshi,” the AI introduces. “I was named after the best friend of Nino’s developer, and I’m an emergency failsafe system in case Nino malfunctions or suffers a crash; a reserve, if you will. Nino is currently unavailable and has entered hibernation. Until then, I will see to Sakurai-sensei’s needs.”  
  
The name feels foreign to his tongue, but like all AIs, their name is the only way to activate them.  
  
“Satoshi, did Nino shut himself down?”  
  
He has a hunch why, and he wants to know.  
  
“Your simpler terms, Sakurai-sensei, however inadequate, are essentially correct,” Satoshi informs him.  
  
“And why did he do that?” Sho demands.  
  
“I believe Nino’s terms for the sudden self-termination of his services were ‘not wanting to see more than what he has to,’” Satoshi says. He sounds unbothered by the whole thing. “Don’t worry, Sensei. Before Nino shut down, he has handed everything to me. As a reserve, I can do the same things that he can.”  
  
“Are you saying that I scarred that damn AI that he wanted to unsee everything?” Sho asks.  
  
He feels Jun laugh against his skin, the small huffs somewhat ticklish.  
  
“Nino, like me, has the ability to choose self-termination should we deem it necessary,” Satoshi says.  
  
“And you?” Sho asks. “You’re unbothered?”  
  
He swears he hears the AI grin when Satoshi replies, “Does Sensei wish to have a copy of this footage in his personal drive?”  
  
Sho grabs a pillow and hides behind it. He yells a firm “No!”, half-muffled and scandalized.  
  
He kind of understands Nino now. Fuck smartass AIs.  
  
“Please do not mention that again, Satoshi,” he says, and he flicks his finger against Jun’s scalp because Jun is still laughing breathlessly against his belly. “Half of this is your fault.”  
  
Jun lifts his head to look at him. “If I ask Satoshi for a copy, will he provide me with one?”  
  
“Shall I save it in your personal drive?” Satoshi asks Jun.  
  
“You will do no such thing,” Sho says, immediately nuking the idea of his sex tape being circulated. The fact that there is a sex tape is horrifying enough; he can only imagine how loud and uninhibited he was in there, delirious from pleasure.  
  
Sho clears his throat. “Satoshi. Please set up my alarm an hour later for tomorrow.”  
  
“As Sensei wishes,” Satoshi says. “Will there be anything else?”  
  
“How long will you be around?” he asks.  
  
“Nino has been letting me rest for a while, and now that I’ve taken over, I would like to give him the rest he needs. That is up to him, Sensei. He did not specify how long he’ll be out of service,” Satoshi tells him. He sounds gentler compared to Nino, but he’s also more shameless.  
  
Sho doesn’t know yet what to think of him. But he thinks he can grow to like Satoshi in the same way he’s learned to love Nino’s quick wit and snark.  
  
“Is there a way to activate you both?” he asks curiously.  
  
“That is not in our programming,” Satoshi admits. “But I believe, Sensei, that there’s someone who can possibly make that happen.”  
  
Sho meets Jun’s eyes, and Jun shrugs.  
  
“I can try,” he says before settling back to where he’s using Sho as a pillow.  
  
Exhaustion creeps up Sho’s bones and he finds himself drifting.  
  
“Will that be all, Sakurai-sensei?” Satoshi asks patiently.  
  
The last thing Sho remembers is nodding and dismissing the AI. “Yes. Thank you, Satoshi.”  
  
Sleep consumes him, and he knows no more.  
  
\--  
  
**2151.1224**  
  
Jun doesn’t know what Christmas is (naturally), he spends an entire day in the infirmary listening to a crash course from the nanny droid about this human tradition. Sho only sees him when it’s the night cycle and they’re in the observatory turned garden to celebrate Masaki’s birthday.  
  
Satoshi claimed to be a sweets expert, so it’s him who picks the cake for Masaki: a honey chocolate cake with truffles on top. Sho thinks it’s a sugar overdose in the making and makes a mental note to visit the infirmary after this.  
  
“Satoshi, do you sing?” Sho asks.  
  
“If Sensei is asking, then yes,” Satoshi replies. “Anything for Sakurai-sensei.”  
  
“Sing happy birthday for Masaki,” he says.  
  
Satoshi does, and he can definitely carry a tune, his voice lilting and carefree, the cheerfulness somewhat contagious. Sho finds himself singing along, not caring that it’s for Jun’s plant baby.  
  
Masaki is glowing brightly, almost iridescently, and Sho interprets it as approval in plant-speak. Not that Masaki can speak, but his ability to glow varies in intensity for reasons unknown to Sho, and Sho would like to think it’s Masaki’s way of expressing himself.  
  
He has long become accustomed to such things having a mind of their own. His relationship with Nino is a testament to that.  
  
It’s Jun who blows the cake for Masaki, and Sho watches him feed the plant with a spoonful of replicated honey after.  
  
“Happy birthday, Masaki,” Sho greets.  
  
“He’s happy,” Jun tells him.  
  
Jun often says such things, but Sho often wonders if Jun truly means it, because how can he know? Unless Jun can understand Masaki in a way Sho can’t, and now that Sho’s curiosity is piqued, he can’t let it go.  
  
“How do you know?” he asks.  
  
“The way he glows tells me,” Jun explains. “When he doesn’t glow, it means he senses a threat. Perhaps to the garden itself or against him. He will try to camouflage himself as an ordinary plant in that way. But when he feels safe, he glows brightly like this.” Jun gestures to Masaki, the iridescent hues mixing flawlessly and glowing vividly.  
  
Sho reminds himself that Masaki is sentient. Then he notices something. A similarity. “You glow too.”  
  
Jun merely nods.  
  
“You never told me what it means,” Sho says. “Only that it’s common for your people.”  
  
Jun smiles, and as if on cue, the golden streaks in his hair begin to glow.  
  
“On my planet, when one is happy or satisfied, when they feel the safest and most content, that’s when it happens,” Jun says.  
  
Sho’s eyes widen; he didn’t expect that. “Then—” he remembers, “—the first time we had coffee—”  
  
“You liked the replicator,” Jun tells him. “That made me happy. Then you shared coffee with me, and I became happier.”  
  
He can recall all the other times Jun’s hair glowed, and most of it did happen around him. Or perhaps all of it—now that he considers it, he’s never seen Jun glow when Jun is on his own. It always happens whenever Sho is with him.  
  
Heat climbs up to his cheeks when he realizes that Jun’s hair always glowed during sex. “You glow whenever we…” he trails off, unable to continue. How shameless!  
  
Jun simply nods.  
  
“Your hair’s glowing now,” Sho points out as if Jun doesn’t know. “You’re happy.”  
  
“I’ve never felt anything else whenever I’m with you,” Jun tells him sincerely, openly. “All the reasons why my hair glows—it’s all because of you. Surely you know this.”  
  
Sho does. He does, but he’s never had concrete proof of it before. And it’s the kind of proof he’s always had, but he never knew the meaning of until now.  
  
He reaches for Jun’s hand and squeezes once.  
  
“I know now,” he says, standing beside Jun and resting his head against Jun’s shoulder.  
  
They stand in silence for a while, sharing warmth and love and everything else.  
  
“Is it Christmas already?” Jun suddenly asks.  
  
Sho hums. “Maybe.” He smiles. “Merry Christmas.”  
  
Jun drops a kiss on his hair. “Merry Christmas.”  
  
Sho laces their fingers together and doesn’t dare let go.  
  
\--  
  
**2152.0125**  
  
In his three years aboard this solitary research station, Sakurai Sho has developed a particular routine. After he wakes up to the station’s AI’s prompts, he checks the logs for any anomalous frequencies in the area. There’s always nothing, but he gets paid by still giving the logs a look so that’s what he does despite knowing what to expect.  
  
Today is different.  
  
He wakes to fingers in his hair, to soothing massages on his scalp. It takes a while for his surroundings to make sense, and when they do, he's pressed against Jun's firm chest, a deep rumble rolling like thunder amidst his heartbeat when Jun speaks.  
  
"Good morning.”  
  
Sho rolls off Jun slowly, hand coming up to rub his eyes. He returns the greeting groggily, and when he stretches his legs, a sharp flare of pain from his pelvis makes him gasp.  
  
Memories of the previous night come rushing—he and Jun welcomed his birthday by being more enthusiastic in the bedroom, and out of Sho's desires to keep up with Jun's stamina, he can finally conclude that his personal limit is three rounds a night.  
  
He's so sore. But the ache is pleasant and welcomed, though it certainly reminds him that he's not youthful anymore nor as vigorous as he likes to believe.  
  
"Happy birthday," Jun tells him.  
  
It's what prompts Satoshi to life, his cheery voice seconding Jun's greeting. "Good morning, Sakurai-sensei. It's 2152.0125." Satoshi beeps and lights up the room, helping Sho wake up faster.  
  
Sho finally wills himself to sit up, groaning at his joints cracking. He'll probably need a patch or two from the medical droid; his entire body feels like a massive bruise.  
  
"Happy fortieth birthday, Sakurai-sensei," Satoshi adds. "There's a little celebration awaiting you in the mess hall. As always, the ISS has extended their greetings to you, and the mail log can be found in your inbox."  
  
"Thank you, Satoshi," Sho says, and he can't help smiling and moaning in appreciation when he feels Jun come up behind him, fingers kneading the muscles of his back and helping him loosen up. Jun's massages always feel amazing, especially when he indulges Sho with them after a long night.  
  
Jun rains kisses over the curve of his shoulder as his thumbs circle downward. For all his intensity, Jun is always extra affectionate and gentle after, like Sho's comfort is his priority.  
  
Perhaps it is.  
  
"Anything unusual out there, Satoshi?"  
  
Satoshi beeps. "Research Laboratory 874-C is fully operational, and the completed scan of Sector 874-C in the last eight hours yielded zero anomalies. Shields remain operable at one hundred percent capacity. I have a prediction for a solar flare that will make contact in three point six hours. Shall I begin calculations for the solar panels' new positions?"  
  
Sho nods, patting Jun's hands on him to tell Jun that it's enough. Jun lets him go, but only after pressing a lingering kiss to his nape. "Please. And thank you, Satoshi."  
  
"I will be ready with the calculations by the time Sensei makes adjustments," Satoshi promises. "On new topics for Sensei's research, may I suggest—"  
  
Sho holds up a finger. "There's nothing in the logs that will interest me, Satoshi. I'll continue working on the previous transmissions and find other things to improve on the station as side projects."  
  
"I understand, Sensei, but I wasn't about to suggest reviewing the logs," Satoshi says politely. Then he repeats himself. "If I may, may I suggest that Sensei study the possible health benefits that may be associated with alien sperm?"  
  
Sho buries his face in his hands, letting out an embarrassed whimper. Every time Satoshi assumes a polite tone, what he says next is guaranteed to be shameless.  
  
He punches Jun's arm when he hears Jun snort in amusement.  
  
"Studying that will require us to do it more regularly. Luckily, my sexual drive is unriva—," Jun begins to say suggestively, but Sho slaps his hand over Jun's mouth to prevent him from speaking anything more.  
  
They're already doing it regularly. Sho’s body is trying its best to keep up and still, Jun wants to do more? He will be the death of Sho.  
  
"You need a consenting party for that kind of study, Satoshi," Sho says evenly, though it takes effort. He knows he's blushing.  
  
Jun yanks his hand off his face. "I am consenting."  
  
"The medical droid would like to complete the data we have on Jun," Satoshi elaborates. "While the infirmary has its samples, it wouldn't hurt to have more to perform further tests."  
  
Sho will need to find that medical droid. He knows that the seminalysis done on Jun's sample has yielded nothing unusual, save for a slightly higher fructose content—the medical droid reported this to him personally, and he struggled to keep a straight face during the entire thing.  
  
"No," Sho says. At Jun's pout, his resolve begins to waver and he sighs. "I'll think about it, all right?"  
  
"Understood, Sensei," Satoshi answers gleefully. He's a different brand of evil from Nino—Nino is the neutral kind.  
  
Satoshi isn't even chaotic. He's the true, pure kind.  
  
"Will there be anything else, Sakurai-sensei?" Satoshi asks.  
  
"No," Sho firmly. "Thank you, Satoshi."  
  
The AI beeps once and everything is silent.  
  
Sho stretches, stiff joints cracking before he moves to stand. He showers quickly and readjusts the solar panels as per Satoshi's calculations, and when that's done, he enters the mess hall.  
  
He finds Jun there, surrounded by beeping droids that once examined and accompanied him wherever he went. Jun has no affection for them, but to Sho, these droids helped keep him sane when he was all on his own. Machines they might be, but they're Sho's companions as well.  
  
He looks back to the year he's had, to the loneliness he once thought was his future and finds that he feels none of it at present. Since Jun’s arrival, he’s never been lonely. Each day is something to look forward to, with Jun by his side along with a bunch of AIs and an alien plant.  
  
Despite the oddness of his situation, Sho can’t imagine a better family.  
  
His own family in the Martian colony should be sending a holo invite as per tradition, and he momentarily excuses himself to wait for it at the bridge. There's no replicator cupcake this year or a quiet happy birthday he sings under his breath, and he finds that he prefers it that way: it means there’s someone waiting for him when he returns to the mess hall.  
  
Outside the station, behind the massive glass panels overlooking the stars and the galaxies beyond, he sees his reflection staring back.  
  
Sakurai Sho smiles, his heart full and at peace.  
  
He is home.

**Author's Note:**

> Gym goober looked like [this](https://twitter.com/Siroi_huyu/status/1333391816989708289?s=20) in my head.
> 
> Credit where it's due: half of the cheesecake skepticism is thanks to rochi, and Ohno being the reserve AI was her idea. I was undecided whether to name plant baby Satoshi or Masaki, but rochi's big brain came forward with Ohno as the AI and I thought "yeah the Obake bois can be the disembodied voices, love that."
> 
> An excerpt from our convos including certain hcs about this AU:  
> me: so human's got this hot alien whos strong and can k-word human  
> rochi: human thinking like "he can k-word me and i love that for me"  
> me: exactly  
> me: also nino aint sticking around for juice exchange  
> rochi: juice exchange sdhshdsh
> 
> Title is from the Of Monsters and Men song of [the same name](https://open.spotify.com/track/3AF6JW5zzVmSkQWIKMVYqh?si=6CDpkbzuT-K70omp_tLC4g).
> 
> If you’ve made it this far, thanks for reading. I'm on twi if you'd like to yell.


End file.
